


Ad Astra Per Aspera (To The Stars, Through Hardship)

by solarsunfire



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Bakamatsu Revolution, Historical References, Kazoku Peerage System, M/M, Pining, Political Alliances, Political Intrigue, Shadow Work/Intelligence, a/b/o dynamics, set in modern era, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 76,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarsunfire/pseuds/solarsunfire
Summary: It was true that tongues would wag if news of what had happened tonight, got out. If Tetsurou been younger and more spiteful, Nekomata might have believed the boy’s actions an attempt to rebel against the expectations being placed on him. His grandson was too forthright a person to do such a thing, however and Nekomata was certain it had been an unscripted decision on Tetsurou’s part to leave so suddenly with the mystery man. It had been too abrupt for anything else.There were very few things in the world that would cause Tetsurou ignore all pretenses of propriety, not to mention his safety or his duty and Nekomata was unsure of what to do if the suspicions he had, were confirmed.~~~Daichi and Tetsurou have always lived with the expectation of fulfilling the roles they had been born to within their respective families. When those roles suddenly change for the both of them, they quickly learn it's hard to see beyond the bars of the gilded cages they find themselves trapped in. It takes meeting one another to realize those bars might be easier to break than first thought.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin
Comments: 74
Kudos: 67





	1. Why The Caged Bird Sings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> This is my first Haikyuu!! fic (that I've actually published). I almost feel like apologizing off the bat because I'm throwing a lot of plot bunnies into this and hope you like where it'll go. There will be historical references and likely, inaccuracies. I make no claims to being a historical expert of the Bakamatsu revolution period in Japan, but thought it would be an interesting plot device to explain some of the restrictive A/B/O laws where omega citizens are concerned. 
> 
> Anywhoo, I hope you enjoy! Please forgive any typos, I have yet to find a Beta to read my drafts over. 
> 
> Some music inspiration for this chapter:
> 
> Blackbird—The Beatles  
> Have It All- Jeremy Kay

The low drone of the mingling crowd probably should have been enjoyable, considering it meant that everything Daichi had worked so hard to achieve, had finally come to fruition. This was supposed to be his defining night, the grand opening of his very own art gallery with nothing but his own work gracing the walls for a change. Important men and women had flocked to the event, no doubt due in part to his manager’s extensive efforts to get the word out that this was going to be one of the biggest events in Tokyo and anyone who was anyone would be there.

Takeda’s indominable spirit and constant haranguing was enough to make even the most stalwart of people bend to his desires. It also didn’t hurt that the artist known as _Sawa_ was very much the talk of Tokyo at the moment over the commissioned portrait he’d done for the Imperial Family to commemorate the recent ascension of Emperor Naruhito to the throne.

The amount of interest they had received regarding the event had been overwhelming, to say the least, and the final turnout had surprised even Takeda, which was a feat onto itself.

Daichi hated it.

The cacophony of mingling scents had him completely on edge as he stared out across the packed expanse of the gallery, the swirl of brightly colored dresses mixing with dark and well fitted suits in a strange amalgamation somewhat reminiscent of the way Daichi’s watercolors would sometimes blend together to create new shades of color never before imagined.

Even at the best of times, large events were not ideal for someone of Daichi’s disposition, and they were made doubly harder for him since he had to pretend to not be affected by the blatant disregard that some of his guests observed in their wearing (or lack thereof) of scent blockers.

Daichi had no choice but to grin and bear it, however. Not if he wanted everything he had worked so hard for to remain intact, and for his future plans to continue to remain a possibility.

People were under the impression Daichi had presented long ago as a beta, and he liked to keep it that way. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth as Daichi was, in all actuality, an omega— a very irregular omega, if his old childhood doctor was to be believed.

On a night like the one stretching out before him, filled with constant interaction and mingling, Daichi resented his body and the limitations it had unknowingly pressed on him. It was considered unacceptable for an unmarked omega to participate in large gatherings like the one he found himself in, especially without an escort, familial or romantic. Though there was a variety of very good reasons for this, Daichi still found it antiquated, sexist bullshit.

There really was something laughably ironic about the fact that had his secondary gender been revealed publicly by this point, it would’ve prevented him from attending his own grand opening.

‘Like hell I’d let them keep me away from this,’ Daichi inwardly mused, his expression darkening just a little as he stared aimlessly over the churning mass of people that were completely unaware of his ongoing struggle.

“How are you holding up, Daichi?”

The voice, though soft, cut through the ambient noise of the gallery with surprising clarity. Successfully shaken from his thoughts, Daichi glanced over to his left where his new companion had so suddenly appeared. 

Takeda smiled back at him in that kind, knowing way of his and Daichi found his irritation ebbing quickly away in the presence of his manager-turned-friend. It wasn’t Takeda’s fault that Daichi’s body couldn’t behave, and like hell Daichi was going to take his frustration out on him.

“The new drugs are working, I think. I’m okay. It’s just…” Daichi trailed off, hand gesturing towards the crowd in wordless explanation.

“A lot?” Takeda guessed, expression already turning apologetic. “You know, maybe you’ve done enough mingling. You could go home and no one—”

“I’m not leaving,” Daichi quietly but firmly insisted in the tiny alcove they’d sequestered themselves in. “I can do this. My actual heat isn’t due for another two days and the new suppressors are supposed to be stronger than what I normally take. I got them specifically for this event so my body would behave for a change and let me live my life without all the pre-heat symptoms.”

“There’s nothing wrong with playing things safe, Daichi.” Takeda murmured. “You know I just worry about you.”

Daichi smiled apologetically at Takeda, not having meant for his words to turned so clipped. “I know, Takeda-san, and I appreciate it. It’s just one night though, I think I can take it,” he joked, gently nudging the petite man in playful jest.

“Well, if it helps any, I don’t think you’re the only one feeling out of place here.” Takeda nodded towards the corner opposite from where they were standing. There, a tall, dark haired man was aimlessly staring at two of Daichi’s admittedly more somber pieces, apparently captivated.

For some strange reason, Daichi found himself incapable of looking away as he watched the stranger walk from one painting and to the other, his back still turned towards them both the whole while. He really was tall, almost unnaturally so, that it distracted Daichi for a moment.

“That man hasn’t moved from that corner for thirty minutes. Before that he was chain smoking on the patio with a friend of his until he got pulled back in by who I’m pretty sure was his grandfather,” Takeda lightly stated, the almost offhanded tone he used immediately setting Daichi on guard as he forced his eyes away from the stranger to stare suspiciously down at his manager.

“Takeda-san, I know that voice. What did you _do_?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just wanted to keep you informed as to the interest your work is receiving from the grandson of one of the more influential attendees we have tonight.”

Daichi sputtered at that, very nearly laughing.

“You just said he looked like he could care less about being here and now you’re saying he’s eating up my art?”

Though it was mean, Daichi found a little satisfaction in seeing Takeda’s eyes subtly squint in frustration at having been caught red handed in one of his machinations.

“I did _not_ say that, Daichi.”

Daichi gave Takeda a flat look and slowly folded his arms over his chest in the most unimpressed fashion he could muster.

“What are you getting at, then?”

Takeda’s gaze tilted towards him before he glanced in the direction of the main crowd. “His grandfather is well off, I’m pretty sure. At least that’s what I’ve heard in passing while making the rounds. They didn’t quite say what his line of business was, just that it was diverse. People are giving him a respectful distance, so there’s a pretty good reason for it. I was just thinking it’d be good for you to go and chat up his grandson, it might be beneficial.”

“So because his grandfather’s rich, you want me to go and kiss ass in the hopes he buys one of those? Takeda-san, _no_.” Daichi’s unimpressed look grew more pronounced with Takeda’s less than subtle suggestion, to the point he was outwardly glowering at his friend.

“No,” Daichi repeated, very much certain he didn’t like at all what Takeda was suggesting to him.

Or the way Takeda was looking at him.

“No way.”

Takeda stared calmly back, lips twisting into a deceptively serene smile. “Well, if you’re not going to mingle and network, you might as well go home then, hm?”

There was something close to an unspoken dare in Takeda’s eyes, sharp and devilish but understated. Daichi knew what it meant—‘ _either you go and talk to him, or I’ll find a way to send you home, just test me._ ’

For a brief moment Daichi genuinely sympathized with whomever Takeda was bound to eventually end up mated to before he reminded himself that he really shouldn’t be worrying about it. The man was a goddamn menace when he set his mind to something, and if someone was stupid enough to fall for the soft and sweet act Takeda sometimes put on, then they deserved to suffer.

Daichi, trying to put off the inevitable, glanced from Takeda, to the man, and then back one more time and realized with a good deal of resignation he literally had nowhere to run to for safety in the current situation. At least, not anywhere Takeda couldn’t follow and continue to be insufferable.

“Fine,” he growled out and stalked away after a long moment of indecision, his tense shoulders sagging a little once he was finally a few feet away. It was the path of least resistance, and it was the best way to get Takeda off his back, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

As Daichi drew a little closer, he was able to better study his new focus, and his first impression, after noting the stranger’s substantial height, was that the man’s hair was a disaster. Daichi couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten away with it, considering the careful way everyone else in the establishment was dressed to the nines. Not that he really cared, but it wasn’t exactly typical.

His second impression was that his crazy hair aside, the man was undoubtedly well dressed like the rest of the evening’s attendees. The three-piece suit he wore was fitted perfectly, the material fine and expensive. The deep red scarf casually draped over the fitted gray overcoat the man wore was made from what Daichi highly suspected to be pure cashmere and he was nervous to even breathe too heavily in the other man’s direction lest he disturb even a filament of the expensive get up.

 _‘At least his fashion taste was better than his hairstyling_ ,’ Daichi mused, fighting not to smirk as he tried to come up alongside the stranger as casually as possible, though there really wasn’t any way to pretend he hadn’t walked up intentionally considering they were just two of the very small handful of people present in the smaller wing of the gallery.

“Trying to avoid the crowd, or are you really that captivated with these pieces?” Daichi lightly asked, pointedly deciding to not worry too much about the optics of his attempts to draw the man into conversation.

The stranger snorted, and Daichi found his gaze soon locked with eyes the color of something close to amber, the man’s stare strangely piercing in the dim light of the corner they were currently ensconced in.

Daichi, to his dismay, realized a moment too late he’d fucked up and his heart nearly stilled in his chest.

The man was handsome—no, he was fucking _perfect_ , the type of figure you’d see on runways or billboards for haute couture perfume and clothing lines. All long lines and perfect symmetry, the man’s face was slim but still masculine, like the rest of his body, though it was the stranger’s golden tinged gaze that held Daichi’s attention and left him struggling to remember how to breathe.

There was a caste of playful irreverence in the slow, teasing grin the man turned on him a moment later and Daichi swallowed as casually as he could to bring at least a little moisture back to his mouth, already regretting having allowed Takeda to con him into coming over.

Fucking hell, he was not equipped to deal with this right now.

“What, can’t a man do both?”

Daichi released a strangled sound at the unrepentant and surprisingly honest retort and did his best to muffle the laugh that had bubbled up in his throat by quickly coughing into his hand.

“So you _are_ trying to avoid the crowd.”

“And admiring the pieces of art,” the stranger’s grin widened a little more before he let his amused golden gaze blatantly flick over the length of Daichi’s body, clearly drinking in the other man’s form.

Daichi could only blink in response, genuinely stunned for a moment at the subtle insinuation of the stranger’s actions before he quickly brushed it off with a derisive snort.

Daichi could tell the stranger was used to flustering other people and had probably made the use of witty banter and innuendo into a near artform, if he had to guess. He was the very definition of an alpha playboy, the type of man who was used to flirting and having anyone he desired throw themselves at his feet with the right type of wordplay or suggestive touch.

He was also, because of this, the type of person Daichi usually took great lengths to avoid.

Daichi had been around enough self-entitled alpha men to know he wanted nothing to do with the type of discriminatory and sexist behavior they tended to engage in when it came to the other secondary genders, especially those that presented omega. It was insulting, how differently most alphas treated people of their own secondary gender, along with people who presented as beta, as opposed to Daichi’s own particular gender.

Things had improved and omega rights were finally gaining traction, but the discrimination and segregation unbound omega citizens still faced in many facets of life was far too prevalent for Daichi’s tastes.

“Right,” he redirected with more serenity than he was actually feeling at the moment. “So what caught your interest with these two? Not a lot of people like melancholy tinged works.”

“I like them because they’re some of the most honest pieces here,” the stranger’s eyes slid almost reluctantly off of Daichi before refocusing on the artwork closest to the both of them. 

On a large canvas, a man sat on a gray colored settee beside an open window, his gaze focused through the parted panes towards some distant point neither of them could see, expression wistful and almost sad. In his hands was a folded book, the faintest lettering that spelled out ‘ _I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings’,_ present on it’s spine. The coloring of the whole portrait was a mix of deep burnt golden tones and gray shadows, making it clear that in the scene before them, it was likely shifting to twilight, the bright light of the sun soon to disappear.

“Honest?” Daichi softly questioned, unable to deny the answer had taken him by surprise. He found himself studying the man more than the painting right then, because he already knew every inch of the piece like the back of his hand.

It’d taken him hours to produce this particular artwork, and it had been one of the first pieces that’d he’d attempted following his secondary gender diagnosis, which was in part, probably why it had taken him so long to finish it. There had been so much for him to process while he slowly came to terms with the fact he wouldn’t be able to live out his life under the radar as a simple beta.

He’d been so bitter then, so worn down with defeat over his body’s betrayal. The generally accepted societal role associated with being an omega was demoralizing to Daichi. If he were to go along with what society expected of him, his main priority now aligned with him producing children. It was expected that he’d soon find an acceptable mate and give in to the gender norms that still permeated so much of their society, and bow out of working all together.

Daichi, to say the least, detested every bit of it.

Daichi was fine on his own, he didn’t need a mate and even more importantly, he didn’t have any interest in giving up his passion simply because it was the _proper_ thing to do. He’d left everything he’d ever known to pursue his art, and nothing would stop him from living out his dream.

“Isn’t it, though?” The stranger smiled down at him with lidded eyes that were almost searching and Daichi had to force himself not to look away, almost able to believe that if he did, the man would somehow know he was the artist, even though he knew it was unlikely.

Daichi had evaded the press quite well so far and continually refused to be photographed to be able to keep a low profile and live his life as normally as possible.

The stranger paused, before humming quietly in thought. “He’s lost— trapped almost— I think. That and the book is a huge nod to his mindset of whatever situation he’s dealing with.”

“How do you mean?” Daichi dared to ask, and it was almost a challenge, inviting the man to prove if he really did understand the themes Daichi had been trying to incorporate into the portrait.

He couldn’t possibly know the book though, or the artist, Daichi was almost certain of it. American literature wasn’t exactly common reading material in Japan. Maybe he was just guessing, trying to keep the conversation going in some ill-advised effort to seem impressive to Daichi. The current setting almost encouraged it, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d watched an alpha try to curry favor by bullshitting to the high heavens.

“He’s losing everything,” the tall stranger murmured, voice unnecessarily soft when the sound around them was decidedly less intense than at the center of the gallery where the majority of the crowd was lingering. “How does it go? Ah, I think it’s— **‘The caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of things unknown, but longed for still, and his tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom’**. It’s pretty telling.” The man’s voice was low and soft, and somehow made the recited verse almost sensual as he held Daichi’s stare unblinkingly, calling his bluff.

Daichi was barely able to fight off a shiver and he swallowed, wondering just a little at the intense way the stranger was currently staring at him, more than a little amazed by the man’s perfect rendition that it left him uncharacteristically tongue tied and stunned.

“I think the man has been trapped by circumstances of some sort and he’s thinking of all the things that could have been,” the stranger went on to add. “Who hasn’t been held to some expectation or commitment at one point or another? It’s relatable.”

“You seriously know Maya Angelou?” Daichi blurted out, and received another smirk in return.

“I read all sorts of things, but I enjoy poetry, yes.” The stranger shrugged and carelessly ran a hand through his already messy but somehow attractive head of dark hair that from behind, Daichi had first mistaken as a malformed bird’s nest.

“You didn’t strike me as the type to enjoy reading so much that you’d be able to recite verses verbatim,” Daichi admitted, smiling a bit against his better judgement, a little pleased and surprised to have someone other than himself finally see and appreciate the messages he’d woven into this particular portrait.

The stranger mocked out a gasp and clutched at his heart as if he’d been stabbed and gave Daichi an utterly woebegone, betrayed look that jarred a laugh from Daichi before he could stop himself.

“Why I never. I’ll have you know I have an eidetic memory when it comes to things I read. See, this is why I don’t like to come to these types of stuffy events. I just get picked on, it’s unfair.”

“Braggart. Maybe if you combed your hair for a chance people wouldn’t give you such a hard time,” Daichi grinned, reluctantly admitting to himself that if anything, he might as well enjoy teasing the man since he seemed partial to the strange back and forth they’d developed.

Daichi was about to continue with his good natured ribbing when he caught sight of a sharp eyed, severe looking man shifting subtly a few feet away from them, his brown gaze shifting towards them every few minutes as if making sure nothing had befallen them since the last he’d glanced in their direction.

“Uh,” he intelligently cleared his throat, “is that anyone you know?”

The tall stranger glanced over his shoulder in the direction Daichi was peering in and suddenly grinned, his gaze shifting back towards Daichi quickly. “Yeah, I know him. Kyo-kun is sort of part of the whole expectation and commitment thing we were just talking about.”

Daichi stared at the almost militaristic looking man in confusion before it clicked and he looked a little more closely at the possible bodyguard. It was faint, but he could see the smallest outline of a gun beneath the black, fitted jacket the short, wiry man wore and he glanced back towards the stranger beside him in clear disbelief.

“You’re really that big of a deal? Huh.”

The tall man looked at him, eyes slightly wide and his lips parted in shock before his expression cracked and he started snickering into his hand.

“Damn,” the stranger gasped out around a loud, earnest laugh. “You don’t hold anything back, do you?”

Daichi shrugged, but didn’t lose the small smile on his mouth, already pretty certain the man hadn’t been offended. “Most people generally tend to have an inflated sense of worth, so….”

“Well if I could get away without needing Kyo-kun’s protection, I’d take it,” the man chuckled. “I wish it were as simple as having an inflated sense of worth. I—” he paused, staring thoughtfully at Daichi for a long moment before he smirked rather unexpectedly.

Daichi felt like the man had been about to say something he shouldn’t have with the way the stranger had so suddenly paused and Daichi found himself in the very rare position of actually feeling curious about another individual for a change. This man was unusual, that much Daichi knew.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, by the way. It’s nice to meet you, Sawa-san.”

The utterance of his alias made him twitch though he otherwise steadily held the other man’s gaze, bracing himself for the man’s inevitable invitation to shake his hand. “You knew?”

“You’re the least pretentiously dressed person in the place next to Kyo-kun,” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards his glowering bodyguard, “and your manager. It was a matter of deduction. That, and you knew the content of the portrait better than most people here were likely to have.”

Daichi glanced down at his black turtleneck and simple khaki slacks in a sudden swell of self-conscious uncertainty and frowned, not sure whether to be insulted by Kuroo’s words or not. Did he look bad? Daichi hadn’t thought so, but now Kuroo was making him feel even more out of place among the rest of the crowd, some of which were probably wearing clothing articles that had cost thousands upon thousands of yen.

Though it was weak of him, he relaxed a little when Kuroo made no move to offer up his hand, and he wondered for a brief moment if it had been intentional, or if the man was more conservative than he’d given him credit for. Kuroo looked to be about his age, though, so Daichi found it hard to believe Kuroo was the type to avoid intentional contact with others, whether out of propriety or simply nerves.

“ _A matter of deduction_? What are you, Sherlock Holmes?” Daichi snarked back immediately, happy to distract himself from his swirling thoughts on Kuroo’s unexpected behavior.

The grin Kuroo turned on him seemed to indicate he didn’t mind his sharp tongue and Daichi wondered for not the first time that night what the man was thinking. He didn’t seem to care much for polite conversation, or propriety in general, but then there was his refusal to shake Daichi’s hand.

It was a strange incongruity that Daichi didn’t know what to make of.

Takeda’s introduction of the man’s supposed social standing had left him, he had to admit, with an unkind impression of the type of individual Kuroo was likely to be. Daichi knew, more than anyone, how much of a contradiction appearances could truly prove to be, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been unkind of him to judge Kuroo so quickly as he had.

“If things had turned out different, I could’ve seen myself becoming an investigator, sure.”

Daichi chuckled at Kuroo’s retort and eyed the man thoughtfully before glancing around the gallery until he found his manager deep within the crowd of attendees. Takeda was currently chatting up one of their many guests and Daichi didn’t think his friend would really mind if he stepped out from the main room for a little bit, especially since he was ‘mingling’ with Kuroo as Takeda had previously phrased it. 

“If you didn’t like the lighter material we have out here, I have some pieces I’m working on you might enjoy more if you wanted to see them.” Daichi offered before he could second guess the intelligence of such an action, or why he was even still interacting with the other man when Kuroo had been almost nothing but exasperating since Daichi had first wandered over to chat with him.

He couldn’t help but be a little amused by the thought his father would probably stroke out at the idea of him inviting someone who was very likely an alpha into a secluded room with minimal supervision. Daichi wasn’t about to bow to convention though, not when he took such great pains to use suppressor medication and patches to hide his state so that no one was any the wiser to his actual secondary gender.

This was harmless, he mused, and the other man didn’t strike him as the type to try something, either. Daichi was serious about believing Kuroo might enjoy his other work, especially since the portrait they had been admiring was one that had gone unnoticed and unloved over the last six years.

This strange man, for some inexplicable reason, was the first to ever truly understand what Daichi had been trying to convey through the painting. It had the unpleasant side effect of leaving him wondering what the exact pressures in Kuroo’s own life were that had rendered him feeling just as trapped as Daichi, that Kuroo could so clearly peer into his work and recognize the pain practically laced through every stroke of the painting.

Kuroo met his questioning gaze, and there was something like surprise reflected in the taller man’s amber eyes that Daichi did not know quite what to make of as a long silence stretched between them in the otherwise bustling gallery.

“You’re the guest of honor,” Kuroo slowly stated, his words almost a question.

“And?” Daichi huffed a low laugh, “No one is going to miss me. Most of the people here don’t even know what I look like, Kuroo-san. Come on, you and I both could use a break from the crowd, I think.”

Daichi tilted his head towards a quiet corridor to the left of them and started walking in that direction without waiting for Kuroo to follow, certain that he’d tag along. By the time he had made it down the deserted corridor and had come to pause at the door to his private work room, Kuroo had made it to the midpoint of the hallway, his severe looking bodyguard just steps behind him.

“Kyo-kun can wait out here, so we’ll have some privacy,” Kuroo grinned, and Daichi cocked a brow at the other man’s self-assured expression, certain that the devious twist of lips Kuroo was flashing at him had probably done much for him in the past.

Daichi, however, was not so easily impressed.

“He should come in, the door locks from the inside so no one would be able to get in without having to make a big fuss. Somehow, I don’t think he’d appreciate being unable to get to you if he needed to, Kuroo-san.” Daichi swung open the door and smiled widely in a bit of a challenging manner at Kuroo who, Daichi was surprised to note, looked more amused than irritated by his firm rebuttal of Kuroo’s original plan.

“Are you sure you’re just an artist, Sawa-san? You have quite a bit of steel in you. I could see you commanding men. Hmm…let me guess, army?” Kuroo quietly drawled as he came to a stop beside Daichi in the now open doorframe, his golden gaze sparkling with something like mirth that Daichi didn’t appreciate in that moment.

“I’ve never served,” Daichi stared defiantly back at Kuroo even when the words felt like ash on his tongue, dry and bitter.

It was just one more thing he would never be given the opportunity to do, had it really been something he had wanted to pursue. Omega presenting men and women were deemed not suited for the armed forces because of the potential distraction and temptation they could cause to alpha members. Daichi frankly saw it as a way to legitimize the mistreatment of their entire caste, a way of blaming the sexual assault and harassment they so often faced on them, as if they, themselves purposefully invited the unwanted attention that their gender commonly faced.

“And I’m not a big fan of the military, either.”

Daichi didn’t want to linger in the doorway so close to Kuroo any longer than necessary, strangely aware of how goddamn _warm_ the other man’s tall form was and he gestured for Kuroo and his bodyguard to step in.

Kuroo, other than cocking a curious brow at him, thankfully abated and stepped inside. He was closely followed by his silent shadow, who shot a clear glare of warning at Daichi as he swept on past him.

Rolling his eyes, more amused than threatened by the unnecessary gesture, Daichi let the door fall shut behind them and quickly flicked on the room lights from where he stood in the entrance way. “A lot of the works in here are still in various stages of completion, but there are some that are done that I just didn’t want to put out onto the floor this time around. I figured you’d like those.”

The studio was an open yet still cozy space, but being set towards the back of the building, unfortunately had no windows to allow natural light in.

There was another tiny hallway at the opposite end of the room that led to a small washroom and an emergency exit door that let out at the back of the building. Despite the lack of windows, it was bright in the room due to the special track lighting he’d had installed. It was clean, if not a little cluttered in some corners with multiple easels set out, some covered and others exposed. There was a small loveseat set in the far most corner where Kuroo’s bodyguard was currently standing that Daichi sometimes used when he was too tired to get home after working late, or just wanted to take a break.

Kuroo was already slowly walking around the room, studying it’s contents while his taciturn bodyguard had settled into a stiff, alert stance to observe their movements, clearly uncomfortable with the change in setting. Daichi didn’t mistake it for a lack of experience, like some might. Just with the way the man was holding himself told Daichi the man would have no trouble responding to any perceived threat in the blink of an eye. Daichi decided to ignore the distrustful way Kuroo’s bodyguard was staring at him for the moment, apparently having noticed his attempts at observing the other man and moved to join Kuroo beside one of the occupied easels where one of his currently unfinished works was propped up.

Kuroo glanced at him and then back to the partially done painting, his amber gaze staring at it thoughtfully in a strangely unsettling silence. Daichi didn’t find the quiet fitting for the other man, for some strange reason. There was some strange disconnect in the experience, as if he knew Kuroo wasn’t built for morose contemplation, or at least, it didn’t strike him that it was his natural state.

“It’s strange seeing an artwork unfinished like this, you’ve changed this a few times, haven’t you?” Kuroo pointed to the faintest outlines of a penciled sketch that was propped up beside the canvas version. The two were similar, but there were differences, too, and Daichi eyed the sketch for just a brief moment to recall what changes he’d decided on.

“Sometimes as I’m painting, I realize the posture or content I had in mind really doesn’t seem right,” Daichi admitted. “It’s easy to just copy a sketch, but I find there’s a bit of…spontaneity I need to really bring something to life, so the sketches I make a lot of the time just act as concept works for me to reference. Sometimes things only really come to me as I’m painting, and it’s hard to know for sure how something will come out. I’ve had to redo lots of the paintings I’ve made before I’m satisfied, but I guess that’s just part of it.”

“That painting out there, did it require a lot of changes before you finished it?”

Kuroo was suddenly staring at him again and Daichi blinked at the question, expression turning thoughtful and a little confused as he stared back at the dark haired man, unsure of how to answer that.

“Not—not changes, no. That one was special. It just took me time to finish it, I…” Daichi trailed off, frowning a little as he realized it would be impossible to fully articulate the complexity of the piece, not without giving away the events that had inevitably put it’s creation into motion.

“I was going through a tough time when I started it, but I knew from the very beginning how I wanted the painting to look. I think there was something about finishing it though, that made it final, that made me hesitate to complete it.”

“Because it would make the things you were going through a little more real?” Kuroo lightly offered, his golden gaze flickering with a strange intensity that made Daichi freeze, the understanding swirling in Kuroo’s gaze making his stomach flip and twist in on itself for not the first time that night.

Daichi had to look away, his lips pursed as he stared at his unfinished portrait to have an excuse not to look at Kuroo. How had Kuroo possibly been able to discern that?

“I’m sorry, that’s probably—” Kuroo started to say, recognizing the current vein of conversation was turning perhaps too personal, when Daichi cut him off with a shake of the head.

“No. You’re right. I kept putting it off because it meant accepting there wasn’t any way to change things.” Daichi quietly admitted, rubbing slowly at the back of his neck out of nervous reflex. To be honest, he wasn’t used to talking about that time in his life.

All of the people in his sphere that mattered, knew very well it wasn’t something he liked to discuss, they recognized it hurt Daichi still and so it was tactfully avoided at all costs among his friends and family.

He dared to look up, only to find Kuroo smiling at him with none of the cocksure, almost plastic charm that had graced Kuroo’s previous smirks. It was almost soft, knowing in a strange way, and Daichi nervously let his gaze flick back to the canvas, not sure he liked how much Kuroo seemed to see, even without Daichi saying much at all. He found his shoulders relaxing though, a bit of the tension clinging to his frame easing and he exhaled soft and slow through his nose as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“Change is painful,” Kuroo spoke up after a moment of silence between them, “and uncomfortable. It has this pretty annoying tendency to happen when you least expect it or want it to come along, too. I get wanting to fight it, Sawa-san. I think we’re ultimately the ones that decide our futures, we just have to take things into our own hands. Just because things change, doesn’t mean things are set completely in stone.”

Kuroo’s bodyguard let out something like an amused huff and Daichi watched as a far too honest grin curled across the taller man’s mouth, his golden hued gaze shifting over to the blond, stocky man.

“You disagree, Kyo-kun?”

“No.” The man’s voice was deep and rumbling, Daichi noted, but strangely not unpleasant even though he was sure it could be intimidating in the right circumstances. “Just thinkin’ about what the boss would say about that.”

“Kuroo-san isn’t your boss?” Daichi’s expression reflected his surprise at that as he glanced from the severe looking bodyguard to Kuroo for confirmation.

“Hmm,” Kuroo hummed, giving Daichi a bemused glance in return at his confusion, “Yes and no.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Daichi retorted, directing a flat look right back at Kuroo and crossing his arms almost defiantly over his chest.

“Kyoutani is supposed to protect both of us, so I suppose you could say we’re equally his boss. He enjoys me more, though.” Kuroo’s grin was amplified to shit eating proportions and Daichi had to fight back the smile that nearly slid across his own mouth.

Kuroo was not endearing, not in the slightest.

“The hell?” The man Daichi now knew was actually called Kyoutani, retorted. “You’re a goddamn pain in the ass. At least the old man doesn’t crack fuckin’ terrible jokes and has to listen to his own voice all the time to make himself feel smart.”

Kuroo released a mock gasp of pain and clutched at his chest dramatically as if Kyoutani had actually dealt him a physical blow.

“Kyo-kun, I thought we had something special!”

“Now that, I can actually see, Kyoutani-san.” Daichi grinned, a little of his wariness regarding Kuroo’s bodyguard bleeding away over the fact the other man couldn’t put up with Kuroo’s ridiculous quips any more than Daichi apparently could.

Kuroo turned a mock beleaguered look on Daichi, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the amusement clearly reflected in his gaze. He almost thought there was a bit of pleased satisfaction in the other man’s expression, too, but Daichi figured he was probably just imagining it.

“Et tu, Sawa-san?”

“What can I say, you should beware the Ides of March, Kuroo-san. It’s coming up, you know.”

Oh, that was such a bad joke. Why had he said that? The one drink he’d had earlier in the evening couldn’t be blamed either, unfortunately. Daichi would have slapped a hand to his face if Kuroo and Kyoutani weren’t there to laugh at his mortification.

“Oho, Sawa-san is here to _play_. I knew that quiet artist act was just that, an act,” Kuroo nearly cackled and Daichi had to rub a hand over his face to quickly pretend he wasn’t hiding a smile when his palm slid over his mouth, successfully covering up the evidence of his amusement.

“It’s not an act. I’m an artist and I usually quiet when I’m not arguing with difficult people.” He tried to glower at the other man to prove how unaffected he was, but he knew it probably wasn’t his best attempt if the flat way Kyoutani was looking at them both was any indication to go off of.

Okay, so Kuroo was a _little_ endearing.

Daichi huffed out a sigh, defeated by his own thoughts. “At least you have a bodyguard that isn’t going to betray you, you’re already off to a better start than Julius Caesar was, there is that.”

Kyoutani slowly shifted his gaze to Daichi and cocked a singular blond brow upward in question.

“Who says that’s the case? This obnoxious idiot could drive anyone to murder him.”

An indignant squawk left Kuroo and Daichi finally lost it, helpless to muffle the laugh that escaped his throat at Kuroo’s angry flailing.

Kuroo stopped immediately and Daichi, who was still laughing, took a second to realize the other man was staring at him with an almost dumbfounded expression.

“What?” Daichi paused, a chuckle dying in his throat.

Kyoutani for some reason was staring intently at Kuroo, his gaze suddenly sharp again and Daichi watched the tall, dark haired man jerk as if burned when Daichi cleared his throat when no answer was forthcoming.

“Oh, sorry, it’s just…” Kuroo didn’t finish his sentence and Daichi stared at the other man, bewildered.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” Daichi was pretty sure what he heard Kyoutani mumble, and that made him shift his brown gaze towards the severe looking bodyguard in confusion.

“Right. Well—” Daichi started to respond only to falter and tense up as a wave of familiar heat started churning low in his gut. No. Not now. _Nononono_.

Daichi wobbled on his feet and instinctually pressed his hand to both sides of his turtleneck ensconced throat to make sure the scent suppressor patches he’d put on earlier were still in place, not that it would ultimately help. Daichi knew there was only so much he could smother his scent, and if he was going into pre-heat, his ability to suppress his pheromones would be near impossible.

_“Oi.”_

Even though it was unlike himself, Daichi was panicking. He couldn’t do this now. The new medication he’d had recommended to him and gotten a prescription for just earlier that week was supposed to reduce his heat symptoms, not suddenly kick start it.

_“…Sawa-san? Oi!”_

Daichi sucked in a sharp breath with the sound of Kuroo’s voice and his knees collapsed as a second, stronger wave of heat hit him and he raised his hands to ward Kuroo off when the man shot towards him in an attempt to catch him before his knees hit the floor.

“No, don’t—!”

Kuroo had come within a foot of him, his hands swooping out to catch Daichi beneath his forearms and Daichi’s heart immediately sunk when he felt Kuroo’s grip tighten and the man freeze, his golden eyes widening in shock and stunned realization when he got close enough to register the surge of pheromones leaking off of Daichi’s body.

“Sawa—you’re—you’re an omega?”

And just like that, Daichi’s life was completely upended with Kuroo’s words.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always happy to have fellow Haikyuu/ KuroDai fans squeal with me over this great series. Come find/add me at twitter if you like: @solarsunfire


	2. The Old Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daichi and Tetsurou make their escape, Takeda is thrown to the proverbial wolves (cats, really) and Nekomata has suspicions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> I wanted to get this chapter out today since I'm going to be slammed for time this weekend. My husband and I are house hunting at the moment which I have to say has been an interesting process in the time of COVID-19.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! We're finally diving into the plot and exploring a bit of the backstory on Kuroo's family. I'm definitely curious to see what you all think and if anything piques your interest in particular *rubs hands evilly*. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Music inspiration for this chapter: 
> 
> Life Is Like A Boat (Classic Tokyo Sessions)- Rie Fu  
> Ain’t It Fun—Paramore  
> Hard Times—Paramore

Daichi froze along with Kuroo as they stared at one another, collectively dumbstruck and bound together by the shock gripping both of them in that moment.

“You’re an omega,” Kuroo repeated, voice unnecessarily hushed in the otherwise completely silent space of the studio. Neither of them moved, Kuroo’s fingers still gripping his forearms and Daichi’s partially bowed legs shook a little as they tried to decide whether or not to fold completely or try and take advantage of Kuroo’s grip and lift himself upright once more.

Daichi could only nod, not really trusting his throat to function properly as terror built up fast and heavy in his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

His mind was racing, trying to come up with some way to get himself out of the situation he’d suddenly found himself in but it was hard to focus, especially when another wave of heat hit his body and he shuddered, his legs finally giving out on him fully.

“Shit, Sawa-san!”

“It’s just—I just need a moment,” Daichi choked out. “My medication should kick back in. I—maybe I need to take another dose.”

Kuroo gave him an incredulous look, and Daichi wondered if his pheromones were possibly getting to the other man. Daichi knew how strong they could become when he was going into heat, both Tanaka and Nishinoya, some of his oldest friends, had said as much. It had the unfortunate effect of making him feel that much more vulnerable and he instinctually curled in on himself to minimize his scent as best as he could considering Kuroo’s grip was still strong around his arms.

“What are you taking, Sawa-san?”

“It’s a new endo-supressor I got prescribed, it was supposed to—”

“You _what_? Those are absolute shit, not to mention the side effects they have!” Kuroo exclaimed, and Daichi simply stared at Kuroo, his mouth opening and then closing as the ability to speak failed him completely. Kuroo was an alpha, Daichi was almost sure of it, so for the other man to be familiar with endocrine suppressors, enough to chastise him regarding their supposed side effects, was decidedly confusing.

“Ah,” Daichi intelligently fumbled for the right words, “I couldn’t miss tonight. I know the doctor said there were risks but I really didn’t have a choice. This was the only way I could go and…” He trailed off, breath catching as the world spun around him and he groaned, eyes clenching tightly shut against the nausea that swelled up. “I have to get back out to the floor. If I’m gone too long, Takeda-san will notice but I can’t, not like this. If I take another dose, maybe it’ll suppress my….”

“You’re crazy. No way. Even if you were to take another dose, it wouldn’t do shit for you in stopping your pre-heat symptoms, maybe just cause you to overdose and we’re not doing that, either.” Kuroo cut in, immediately quashing Daichi’s attempts to suck it up and tough it out.

“I can’t just leave,” Daichi opened his eyes to glower up at Kuroo defiantly, hating how helpless he felt right then. Truthfully, he shouldn’t be this close to Kuroo at all, considering the state he was in, but Kuroo’s gaze held none of the glazed desire Daichi had learned to look for, instead there was just tense discomfort which somehow made Daichi feel that much more guilty. If his body hadn’t betrayed him again, Kuroo wouldn’t be subjected to his pheromones and this whole awkward exchange could have been avoided.

“Yes you can, and you need to,” Kuroo insisted and looked briefly towards the brightly lit emergency exit door set at the back of the studio before glancing back at Daichi.

“That door, where does it let out to?”

Daichi glanced at the exit reflexively, quickly catching on to what he was suggesting with no small amount of amazement. “The back of the building. It’s an alleyway on the North side.”

Kuroo nodded and tilted his head to peer up and back at Kyoutani who looked at once both stiff and restless, most likely due to the sudden spike in Daichi’s pheromones.

“Kyoutani, leave out that door and bring the car around to the alleyway.”

“Oi, you know the Oka—” Kyoutani started to say before he suddenly corrected himself for some reason, “your grandfather is going to know you’ve disappeared. You can’t just take off without telling him, he’ll fucking _flip_.”

“No,” Kuroo’s voice went cold and firm and Daichi stared at the dark haired man in disbelief. There was such a discrepancy to the distant, authoritative mask that had settled over Kuroo’s features, so different from the warm, expressive grin and teasing gaze the man had worn just minutes ago back in the gallery that Daichi couldn’t help but think Kuroo almost looked like a completely different person. 

“Sawa-san’s state isn’t going to be known to anyone else but you and I. You’re never to speak of it Kyoutani, not even to grandfather.”

The words knocked the air from Daichi’s lungs, and he stared at Kuroo with wide eyes, completely speechless and confused in his shock.

Kyoutani, after a long moment of glaring at Kuroo in clear frustration, grunted something like an affirmative before stalking quickly out of the studio. Daichi, had he more common sense, should have been leery about being left alone with Kuroo. He found he wasn’t at all frightened though, strangely, maybe in part because of the stern warning the other man had just leveled at Kyoutani on his behalf.

“Kuroo-san, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it but…why are you helping me?” Daichi dared to ask, only when he was certain they were finally alone once more. He was briefly proud of himself for hiding the faint tremor in his voice that had nearly taken root, a byproduct of the adrenaline still rushing through his veins at the unexpected turn of events.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Kuroo simply retorted, the severe expression he wore slowly abating as he carefully drew Daichi up and to his feet, guiding him over to the nearby loveseat where he helped Daichi settle down atop the leather cushions before carefully and quickly stepping back once Daichi had been safely situated.

Daichi tried not to notice how cold he suddenly felt with Kuroo’s body heat removed from his side and he swallowed as he leaned back into the couch in response, fisting his hands tightly atop his lap to hide the embarrassing way they were shaking from the waves of heat pulsing through him intermittently.

Daichi decided he really didn’t like the intense way Kuroo was staring at him, knowing and concerned, as if he understood the shame and sheer terror he was feeling at having his secret barred without any real choice.

“You’ve gone through a lot of trouble to hide being an omega. With all those patches plastered over your neck glands—at least I think I saw one— and the endocrine suppressors you’re taking, it’s not hard to figure out. You want it to stay a secret, right?”

“Yes,” Daichi quietly admitted, swallowing against the nausea churning heavy in his stomach, brought on by Kuroo’s words. Just the thought of his secondary gender getting out, affecting his career made his eyes burn and it was only his stubborn pride that kept himself from outright crying. “Please, you can’t…if anyone knows—”

“Sawa-san,” Kuroo cut him off, but the sharp, biting tone he’d used with Kyoutani was long gone, leaving only soft reassurance in it’s wake. “I’m good with secrets. I’m not going to tell anyone about this, okay? I get that you don’t want people to size you up and quantify you based on your secondary gender.” 

Daichi pulled in a soft, relieved breath and exhaled slowly as he turned his gaze down to his lap and clenched his eyes tightly shut as a shameful wave of relief washed over him, softening the shaking in his hands just a little.

“I never wanted to be like this,” he quietly admitted.

Silence followed Daichi’s soft words and lingered between them, heavy with uncertainty and the pressure of finding their footing among the proverbial minefield they’d suddenly found themselves stranded in together.

Kuroo had never been more aware of the danger and power of words, the realization that one wrong sentence could very easily undo Sawa completely, hitting him like a freight train. There was such vulnerability in hearing Sawa admit such a thing, and Kuroo felt guilty, even though he knew it was no one’s fault that they’d ended up in such a situation.

Biology spared no one in their world, and Kuroo knew how isolating it could be to have labels affixed to your person.

Kuroo was confident Sawa would never have willingly admitted such a thing under normal circumstances. It made Kuroo feel terrible because Sawa didn’t truly know him, and probably only felt compelled to explain himself to Kuroo out of a misguided sense of guilt.

It had been easy to lose himself in talking with Sawa, to forget they had only just met a short while ago and Kuroo wilted a little at the thought that after tonight, Sawa would probably want nothing to do with him. Kuroo would only be a reminder of a terrifying experience and of the secret now hovering between the both of them. He had been mulling over possibly asking Sawa to meet again, but now he wondered if that was such a good idea.

It was hard to ignore how incredible Sawa smelled, honestly and Kuroo was so very grateful for the grounding exercises he’d been trained in. Without it, it would’ve been near impossible to compartmentalize his baser urges and instincts not to mention standing so close to Sawa would’ve honestly been unbearable.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Sawa. Omega or not. I—” Kuroo started and then paused, waiting for his thoughts to finally slow down enough for him to formulate a proper response. “I don’t tell this to most people, but my family still follows the old ways, do you understand?”

Daichi raised his eyes from his lap to stare at Kuroo in disbelief, mouth parting a little in his shock as he took that in.

“…The old ways. You follow the old ways.” Daichi repeated, before he was honestly stunned into silence.

Kuroo watched other other man’s eyes narrow as if he were trying to discern his honesty, which was understandable, given the situation. It didn’t do much to help with the anxiety that had welled up low in Kuroo’s stomach after confessing such a thing. It wasn’t something he or any of his family broadcasted readily because there was very much the chance it could come back to haunt them if the information fell into the wrong hands.

His anxiety abated a little when Sawa’s shoulders started to relax and the shorter man had begun to no longer stare at him suspiciously, but with a bit of wonder, instead.

Kuroo met Sawa’s searching gaze with a tiny smile, the twist of lips shy and playful at the same time, and he silently hoped he wasn’t misreading the artist’s body language.

“We’ve never approved of the ‘great’ reform, Sawa-san. When the Meiji government took hold following the end of the last shogunate, we didn’t agree with the adoption of Western views regarding the subjugation of omega presenting citizens. The fact our government even allowed the Western powers to push such a thing onto us just to appease them and gain greater leverage in negotiations is reprehensible, honestly.”

Daichi shook his head, jarred from his shock and waved his hands quickly in reassurance. “I agree, uhm, you actually don’t need to explain. My family follows them, too but I thought—I mean, I know there were hold over pockets of people that still believed in how things had once been but…” He trailed off, unable to help but study Kuroo in disbelief. “That was over a hundred years ago. I never expected to meet someone else outside my family who believed in them.”

Kuroo’s expression turned genuinely amazed and Daichi, for lack of a better response found himself flushing a little beneath the man’s suddenly intent focus.

“I…wow,” Kuroo cleared his throat before reaching up to almost nervously scratch the back of his head, seemingly at a loss for what to say. “I really do think things should’ve improved more than they have, by this point,” Kuroo finally spoke up, chuckling a little nervously, apparently just as tentative about the sudden development as Daichi was.

“My family is stubborn though, and we’ve upheld our beliefs this long, what’s another fifty years? The government has always been shit to deal with, anyway. It’s nice to meet someone outside of my family that feels the same way, though. You get more and more interesting, Sawa-san.”

Daichi smiled, if not a little tiredly and Kuroo felt like it was the most honest upturn of lips the other man had managed all night.

“You really think things will change that quickly?”

“I have to,” Kuroo shrugged, smiling a little sadly back at the artist. “Hope is all we got to keep us moving forward in crappy times. We’ve been pressing for things to change for too long, and I’d like to see things improve by the end of my lifetime.”

Daichi mulled over Kuroo’s particular choice in words and wondered for not the first time that evening if there wasn’t maybe a bit of experience that Kuroo was speaking from.

It made him remember the way Kuroo had so easily peered into his painting and had seen all the pain he’d poured into it. Somehow, Kuroo had recognized Daichi’s isolation woven into the very fabric of the canvas as if it were his own and Daichi wondered if maybe there was some truth in that. Experience was the best teacher, or so it was said.

“You shouldn’t have to fear having your secondary gender being broadcast to the world, Sawa.” Kuroo piped up, breaking Daichi from his thoughts. “You’re a damn good artist, that’s all that should matter.”

Daichi couldn’t help but laugh at that and gave the man a bemused and faintly amazed once over that was punctuated by a tiny smile. “You’re really not what I expected, Kuroo-san.”

“Rich kid brat was what you were expecting, right?” Kuroo was grinning back at him, so Daichi didn’t think he’d offended Kuroo at all with his honesty, which was good.

“Something like that,” he admitted, smile holding steady, amused by Kuroo’s self-depreciating sense of humor. The distraction of their conversation had taken his mind off of his current condition well enough that he wasn’t prepared for the next round of shaking that overtook his frame. He tried not to, but still found himself hissing out a pained sound on instinct as he curled forward a little when his midsection started cramping in an all too familiar manner. God but it _hurt_ going into estrous.

“Ah! Let me check in with Kyo-kun,” Kuroo started into movement with Daichi’s sudden folding in on himself and Daichi, through his discomfort, absently watched Kuroo type something on his phone, the tall alpha pacing back and forth with clear nervousness.

“I’m sorry,” Daichi sullenly breathed out. “I know my scent has to be strong and not, well, not so great to deal with right now.”

“Hah?” Kuroo froze and stared bewilderedly at Daichi, the look of confusion almost boyish and strangely endearing on his handsome features. “That’s not—I mean it’s strong, but you—you smell good. I mean— oh shit, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean it in a creepy way, Sawa, seriously!”

Daichi stared at Kuroo and opened his mouth to respond before he paused, realizing with no small amount of confusion and a bit of amusement, that he really didn’t know what to say in response. In most instances Daichi would’ve been insulted and creeped out, but he didn’t feel that way with Kuroo, which was becoming more and more common he belatedly realized.

“It’s, uh, okay?”

They both stared at one another as an awkward silence settled over the room following Daichi’s stilted response, and it was only broken when Kuroo nervously cleared his throat a minute or so later.

“Right. Yeah, okay. Good.”

Daichi blinked at Kuroo in blatant disbelief, unable to reconcile the suddenly awkward, nervous man before him with the suave, self-assured and cocky individual he’d walked up to in the gallery. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t quite fight back the laugh that bubbled up in his throat and it came out a strangled, muffled thing.

Kuroo gave him an incredulous look before it abated into something close to a pout, his cheeks bright red with embarrassment. “…I said I was sorry.”

Oh my god, Kuroo was genuinely _sulking_. Daichi coughed into his hand and squinted hard at the ceiling in an effort to regain composure and he managed, if just barely. No grown man should look adorable pouting and yet, Kuroo was proving him wrong.

“Don’t pout,” Daichi cleared his throat, breathing out the faintest of chuckles before refocusing his gaze back towards the other man. “It’s okay, really. I’m not offended, Kuroo-san. I get that my pheromones are sometimes a little much. I try to control it, because I know how bad it can be and I don’t like the attention it can bring, it’s uncomfortable when it happens.”

He hesitated in speaking, especially when another wave of cramps and heat hit him hard and he took a deep breath to wait out the pain. When it ebbed again, he breathed out, and noticed the intent, concerned way Kuroo was staring at him, clearly having picked up on the spike of distress in his scent that had been caused by his lingering discomfort.

Seeing that made it easier, his decision to hold his tongue or not, and Daichi couldn’t help but smile just a little at how earnest Kuroo looked in his uncertainty.

“You know, most people wouldn’t apologize, for making a comment like that. I can tell you didn’t mean it the way most people would have.”

“If nothing else, my momma raised me right, Sawa-san,” Kuroo grinned back at him, his smile lopsided and honest. Though it was brief, Daichi couldn’t help but think he much preferred it when Kuroo’s smile was an honest one like the one he currently wore and not one of the fake ones he’d seen on him so far.

“I’m learning that, follower of the old ways,” Daichi dryly retorted, though there was no real bite to his words.

Kuroo snorted, but thankfully took the teasing with good grace and the strange pressure building in Daichi’s stomach slowly abated about the same time the odd, stilted atmosphere that had settled over the room was also broken.

“Touché, Sawa-san.”

Daichi heard Kuroo’s phone ping and he watched the man glance at the screen quickly before pocketing the device and tentatively move back towards him, pausing right before the small couch.

“Kyo-kun has the car outside for us. You good to go?”

“I’m fine, Kuroo-san,” he reassured, standing up of his own accord. Once on his feet, he shot Kuroo a tiny, grateful smile for not reaching out, the polite restraint the man had shown earlier and now, much better understood. As an observer of the old ways, Kuroo made an effort to avoid physical contact with anyone he suspected or knew to be unbonded, especially omega presenting individuals. It was considered impolite to instigate casual touching if individuals held no relation to one another or had not entered into a mutually agreed upon courting period. Still mulling over the new development, Daichi made for the door and absently listened for Kuroo’s steps to fall into a rhythm behind his own as they crossed the short distance to the emergency exit.

Daichi shivered when the cold early spring air hit him the moment they stepped outside, and he cursed himself for not remembering that his coat was sitting in the tiny office space near the front of the gallery. If Takeda hadn’t already noticed his disappearance, he would when he realized Daichi’s coat had been left behind at the end of the night when he locked up the building.

Daichi needed to text him, to let him know he was okay, but what if anyone else also noticed he was gone? What would happen if they received negative reviews of his exhibition due to his absence?

The warm pressure of Kuroo’s thick overcoat was wrapped around his shoulders suddenly, and it successfully broke Daichi from his anxious thoughts as he reflexively gripped at the fabric, the onslaught of Kuroo’s own scent enveloping him so completely that he was temporarily left speechless.

Kuroo smelled good, to put it plainly. The taller man’s scent was musky but light, pleasing in it’s earthy overtones. Whatever cologne the man had put on wasn’t overwhelming either, a rich mix of sandalwood and something subtle that made Daichi want to bury his face into the lapel of the gray overcoat and breath in deeply.

Thankfully he had enough restraint that he didn’t, but Daichi worried he was going to be thinking of Kuroo’s scent a little too much now that it was everywhere around him.

“C’mon,” Kuroo urged and Daichi, in his shock, dazedly followed Kuroo over to a black, sleek Mercedes sedan idling in the alleyway a few feet away. Kuroo quickly popped open the back door and gestured for Daichi to enter in first.

Daichi really hoped the heat in his cheeks could be mistaken for the cold, because the combination of Kuroo kindly lending him his coat and opening the door for him was so embarrassingly polite to an extent Daichi had not been prepared for, that he’d somehow found himself blushing like a fool as he slid into the backseat.

He blamed it on his pheromones, the way he kept noting how thoughtful and respectful Kuroo was being, how good he smelled, though he knew deep down his godforsaken biology wasn’t to blame in this instance. At least, not fully. Daichi couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this flustered, so upended and it wasn’t exactly something he enjoyed. Daichi, having had a few close brushes with attraction, knew the edge of a cliff when he saw one and he had no desire to send himself off of the one he’d currently found himself balancing.

“…you live. Sawa-san?”

Daichi came back into reality at the sound of his name, not even having realized he’d fallen into his thoughts again until he glanced over to Kuroo who was eying him with concern.

So was Kyoutani, though not as blatantly, from the rear-view mirror where he silently peered back at them from the front seat, fingers curled tight against the leather wrapped steering wheel in a way Daichi knew was meant to ground the other man against the pheromones Daichi was probably releasing into the small confines of the car.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about needing to check in with my manager later. What were you saying, Kuroo-san?”

“I know it’s kind of awkward, but Kyo-kun needs your address so we can drop you home. I promise—”

Daichi held up a hand to stop Kuroo from reassuring him that his honesty wouldn’t be abused. Had Kuroo had any ill intent, he would have shown it by this point, and he knew his trust wouldn’t be taken for granted. Besides, if Kuroo did try anything, Daichi would have no trouble putting him on his back if need be.

“I don’t mind, Kuroo-san. I live off of Hotazaka Street in Minato. It’s close to the Shinto Taikyo building, if you’re familiar with it.”

Kyoutani, grunted in understanding and typed the street and details of Minato into his phone’s GPS before taking off in that direction.

“Minato, huh?” Kuroo looked surprised by the information and Daichi settled back into the plush leather interior of the back seat to slant a curious glance over at the taller man. He knew Kuroo was thinking of how expensive the area was, or the reputation it had of being so.

“I only recently moved there, about two months ago,” Daichi tiredly admitted. “After I got a commission with the Imperial household, things started to change. I received more attention after that and my parents insisted that I make the move since I finally had money coming in from additional commission requests and people were buying my older artwork. They never really approved of where I lived before, but well, new artists in Tokyo are a dime a dozen and the jobs I was working in the beginning didn’t get me too far with rents being what they are in Tokyo.”

Daichi didn’t miss those days. Fresh from college and bursting with optimism, Daichi had struck out on his own and settled in Tokyo, much to his parent’s hesitation. It was too large of a city, they’d said, too far from them and what would happen if he was hurt and he needed help? They hadn’t said it, but Daichi knew they were also concerned because of his unbonded status, despite Daichi being more than capable of handling himself. His grandfather had made sure of that, as he frequently made sure to remind them.

Daichi had always been stubborn though, and he’d insisted he could make it, that it might take some time for him to find his footing, but he would.

The optimism he’d come into Tokyo with had gradually been whittled down, replaced by resignation and a bit of frustration when all his traction seemed to have dried up within half a year of his arrival to the large metropolis. Daichi couldn’t even recall the exact number of galleries he’d submitted his art to for consideration, there had been so many, and the number of places that had actually agreed to host his works had been significantly less in the end.

The sales he’d managed had been inconsistent at best back then, the occasional influx of cash that came from the hawking of his works a temporary respite from the financial pressure of living in such an expensive city like Tokyo. All the while, Daichi had stubbornly saved what he could from the sales and his side jobs. It had meant scrimping on food and unnecessary purchases where possible to ensure that the dream of opening his own studio one day would become a reality, but the suffering he’d gone through to get to where he was now had been worth it, undoubtedly.

“So that commission is what changed things for you?”

Daichi blinked, pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Kuroo’s question. He’d been comfortable enough to drift off into his own headspace again, which was slightly unsettling considering the situation he was in. It wasn’t smart to forget he was walking a tight rope of sorts at the moment, one that could quickly upend him and the strict balance he’d maintained up to this point if he failed to keep control over his body and mind. Kuroo had been a gentleman, yes, but Daichi also need to police his body and not make things unnecessarily complicated if he could.

“In a way, yes,” Daichi admitted, shooting Kuroo a wry smile, though it wasn’t unkind. “I really think it was Takeda-san taking a chance on me that changed things for me, though. If he hadn’t offered to become my manager, I’m not sure that commission would have ever happened in the first place.”

“I don’t believe that,” Kuroo mused, enjoying the surprise that flickered so clearly over Daichi’s face with his words, before it settled into something close to confusion. “You’re talented, Sawa-san. Takeda-san or not, you would’ve gotten to this point eventually. You strike me as the type to not give up. It’s just a feeling I have, but I don’t think you understand the meaning of defeat.”

“I…” Daichi faltered at that, genuinely flustered by Kuroo’s words and for a moment all he could do was stare at the other man, Kuroo’s amber gaze locked calmly with his own as he fumbled with what to say.

“I envy you, honestly,” Kuroo pressed on, saving Daichi from potentially making a fool out of himself and tripping over his words. Daichi had never done well with praise, for some reason. It made him uncomfortable and Daichi was always forced to push down his embarrassment for fear of giving away how unequipped he truly was to handle such positive attention.

“You’re doing what you love, consequences be damned. You’re free to pursue what you want, without any hesitation.”

“Well, it wasn’t all smooth sailing, Kuroo-san. There…there really isn’t much to be jealous about,” Daichi insisted, again left with the distinct feeling there was more to Kuroo’s words than the other man was fully expressing. 

“Ah, maybe.”

Kuroo’s dark gaze shifted away to stare out at the passing light and bustle of the Ginza district they were currently making their way through, and they fell into silence once again. Daichi almost wished for a pencil and some paper to capture the play of light and shadow that flickered across the handsome man’s features as they passed under the towering street lamps that lined the road, distracted by the sight.

He knew he’d have to settle for memorizing the intense, hooded way Kuroo stared out at the mental and concrete jungle around them as if searching for something among the halogen haze of bright signs and passing pedestrians that made up the heart of downtown Tokyo.

Daichi was struck by the sudden thought that he was usually one of those pedestrians most days, rushing his way through the very veins of the city, pressed in among the narrow sidewalks and trains with barely any room for him to breathe, just another face among the masses.

Kuroo lived completely removed from that world, Daichi saw it fully now.

With the fine clothes and vehicle Kuroo possessed, as well as the need for physical protection in the form of Kyoutani, it was impossible to ignore the fact that Kuroo belonged to a caste entirely separate from Daichi’s own humble background.

Daichi, in that moment, couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had discovered a part of what made up Kuroo’s own personal cage.

xXx

Takeda had, unsurprisingly, quickly noticed his charge’s disappearance. He’d gotten pulled into discussion with one of the promoters he’d hired to help with the event and had completely lost sight of Daichi as a result. It didn’t help that the last he’d seen of Daichi, he’d been talking with the dark haired stranger, but Takeda couldn’t find the tall man anywhere among the crowd, either and it was putting him on edge as his mind began to turn out potential scenarios at an alarming rate.

Considering the fact Daichi was so close to his heat, Takeda worried something might have gone wrong. He was trying not to focus on the possible danger Daichi was currently in and stubbornly continued to wind his way through the gallery, searching for his friend as discreetly as possible while trying to repress his unease at the turn of events.

He glanced at his phone again, on reflex, and frowned when he noted Daichi still hadn’t replied to the last three texts he’d sent him.

**[To: Dai-kun]**

**8:24**

**Didn’t see where you got off to with our guest. Do I need to rescue you?**

**[To: Dai-kun]**

**9:05**

**Daichi, are you in your studio?**

**[To: Dai-kun]**

**9:09**

**Please let me know you’re getting my messages.**

‘I’m going to yell at Daichi when I finally hear from him,’ he promised himself, already tapping out another text to Daichi, completely oblivious to the small retinue of people making their way towards him through the crowd.

**[To: Dai-kun]**

**9:19**

**Daichi, please text me or call me when you get this, I’m starting to get worried.**

A throat was cleared from behind him in a pointed manner and Takeda immediately pocketed his phone, turning around with a reflexive, polite smile on his lips. He quickly froze when he realized that the very person who had inadvertently started the ongoing crisis he was dealing with, was standing right in front of him.

“Ah, hello,” Takeda politely greeted, “are you enjoying the evening so far? I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m—”

“Takeda Ittetsu, manager for Sawa-san, yes?” The older gentleman finished for him and all Takeda could do for a brief moment was blink at the stranger in surprise, numbly reaching out to accept the hand that was offered up. They both shook twice, before bowing to one another with an appropriate amount of respect as etiquette demanded.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Forgive me for not properly greeting you, I don’t believe I got your name,” Takeda murmured, smiling politely, if not with a tinge of curiosity in his gaze as he studied the older man before him.

His hair was entirely gray, due to his age but well kept and short in fashion, carefully styled to lay sleek against his head in a way that looked intentional but still natural. Takeda guessed him to be in his early seventies, maybe, and while his current expression was pleasant and genial, there was a tempered guardedness to his honey-brown gaze that reminded Takeda of the way the alley cats near his apartment would sometimes stare at potential prey, sizing the risk and reward of pursuing chase.

“I apologize for not introducing myself earlier Takeda-san,” the gentleman demurred and bowed to Takeda again, “I’m Nekomata Yasufumi, pleased to meet you.”

Takeda wondered why the name was so familiar and he was sure the man noticed the way his eyes widened just a little when he finally made the connection.

“Oh! You run Nekomata pharmaceuticals, don’t you? I apologize, I didn’t recognize you!”

The man waved his hand in a dismissive fashion through the air with a polite smile. “I try to avoid the spotlight. I don’t like to make a fuss. It’s not really my style, Takeda-san. And if you didn’t recognize me, that means I’m doing my job right. It’s been some time since I’ve actually been able to get out and enjoy myself for a change, so I really must thank you for putting together such a fine event.”

Takeda still felt embarrassed, though he did lose a little bit of his nervousness with Nekomata’s reassurance and praise. “Ah, well, we’re very happy you were able to make it tonight. Sawa-san will be happy to know you’re enjoying yourself.”

Nekomata gave Takeda an interested look before peering around discreetly. “Oh, is Sawa-san available to chat? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him, yet.”

“Ah…well,” Takeda hedged, quickly thinking on his feet. “He wasn’t feeling too well, earlier so I suspect he may have left to rest at home. I’d be happy to arrange for you to meet at another time, of course.”

“Of course,” Nekomata echoed, his smile growing just a little more prominent and Takeda felt like the man had somehow been able to see through his attempts to act as if he truly knew where Daichi was at the moment. “I would love to meet with him, he’s very talented and I noticed my grandson was very interested in his work as well. Tetsurou seems to also have disappeared, otherwise I’d have introduced you two.”

Takeda could read the subtle, but pointed question layered in the statement and he knew Nekomata was aware of the fact both Daichi and his grandson had, it seemed, disappeared together. The initial impression he’d had of Nekomata being not unlike the shifty, street smart alley cats that loitered near his home was proving to be more correct than he’d anticipated. He listened attentively as Nekomata pressed on, clearly not yet finished with trying to pull details out of Takeda.

“It really is a shame. I was curious to speak with Tetsurou about his thoughts regarding one of Sawa’s portraits, he seemed to be admiring it quite a bit.”

“Oh?” Takeda’s polite smile matched Nekomata’s own, which grew just a little as he eyed Takeda with something close to approval. “Which portrait exactly?”

“It’s called ‘Caged’, I believe,” Nekomata tilted his head in the direction Takeda already knew the work to be in because he had been the one to point Nekomata’s grandson’s interest in it out to Daichi hours ago, “it’s further towards the back of the gallery. It’s a very interesting work, I understand why my grandson was so consumed by it. Tetsurou does not get distracted by much, truthfully, so to see him so enthralled has been a curious but not unwelcome change.”

“Sawa-san is very talented. He gives each work his full effort,” Takeda agreed, and pointedly did not allow himself to give any acknowledgement to the underlying suggestion that coated Nekomata’s response.

Nekomata hummed, thoughtfully as he nodded. “It must make balancing home life hard, I’m sure.”

“Sawa-san is good at time management and he has me to make sure he doesn’t work himself too hard,” Takeda calmly retorted, wondering just what exactly it was Nekomata was trying to glean from their conversation.

“Oh?” Nekomata’s tone fluctuated a little with audible interest and too slow, Takeda realized the error in his choice of words, immediately spotting a moment too late just what it was exactly Nekomata had been after. He just barely remembered not to purse his lips which would give away his irritation, and he mentally apologized to Daichi, already able to imagine his displeasure over his slip up.

“Sawa-san has no one at home to look after him? That’s unfortunate, it always helps to have someone close looking after oneself to prevent burnout.”

“Sawa-san is responsible and knows his limitations, so it really isn’t an issue for him, thankfully.”

Except for tonight, of course. Takeda was still mad at Daichi for forcing himself to come in despite his current condition. The reminder of the possible indiscretion Daichi had shown in slinking off with Nekomata’s grandson was enough to make him want to scream, especially when Nekomata’s subtle inquisition was proof enough that they hadn’t been nearly as subtle in leaving as they’d likely believed.

“Well, I’m certain he’ll eventually find someone to help foster and support his passion.” Nekomata cheerfully intoned, gaze turning from amused to assessing once more in the blink of an eye so fast that it made Takeda go completely still on instinct. He didn’t know how, but he suddenly felt like a creature of prey trying to hide from being spotted by a threatening predator.

“I really would like to meet Sawa-san, sometime.” Nekomata admitted while reaching into his suit pocket, from which he retrieved and extended his business card out for Takeda to take.

The younger man did so quickly with both hands and Takeda forced his body forward into a polite bow of thanks despite the unease swirling in his gut.

“I’m sure he would as well, Nekomata-san.” Takeda said, pointedly making no promises as he straightened up.

“You’re good at what you do, Takeda-san,” Nekomata outright grinned at him and Takeda knew the line he’d drawn had been noted by the older man quite clearly. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch. Since my grandson has apparently made his escape, I think it’s time I call it a night as well. Thank you again for inviting us.”

“I hope you enjoyed your evening, it was nice to meet you, Nekomata-san,” Takeda pushed down the flustered confusion he felt at Nekomata’s praise and bowed to the older man who returned the gesture before turning with his small group of men to make for the front door.

Nekomata politely nodded to the doorman who held the door open for him to exit out of and he immediately moved to the valet loitering by the curb to turn over the receipt stub they’d been given upon their arrival. The attendant quickly shot off to retrieve their town car, leaving the small group in privacy once more.

“Nekomata-sama, I could have done that.”

Nekomata smiled and turned towards his irritated charge, allowing a low chuckle to leave his throat. “Having the valet call for the car? Please, I might be old but I can at least do that, Yahaba-kun.”

“What are we going to do about Kuroo-sama, Okashira?” Kindaichi piped up, though it was more blurted out than anything. The young man’s expression was clearly anxious, and Nekomata wondered how long Kindaichi was going to beat himself up this time for failing to keep track of his grandson’s movements.

The last time Kindachi had lost Tetsurou, he’d been absolutely horrified and hadn’t stopped apologizing about it for a month, afterward. It’d helped a little to quell Yahaba’s wrath over his protégé’s failure, luckily and Kindaichi had thankfully been spared the worst of the man’s legendary apoplectic rage. Nekomata knew Yahaba was fond of Kindaichi, failures and all, which was probably the thing that had ultimately saved Kindaichi and not the apologies, though they had certainly helped.

They all knew Tetsurou was a force onto himself when he made efforts to evade them and because of that, Nekomata didn’t blame Kindaichi or the others for having lost his grandson— he couldn’t. He of all people understood Tetsurou’s sullen fits, even if he didn’t fully approve of them.

“That name isn’t proper any longer, Kindaichi-kun,” Nekomata gently reminded the younger man. “I’m not worried over his disappearance. Kyoutani-kun is still with him, after all.”

“Ah! I’m sorry. It’s just, I’m so used to—” Kindaichi started, his face turning bright red as he sputtered.

“I know. It’s still new to him as well, in some ways,” Nekomata hummed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat to ward off the sharp spring chill, mind mulling over his grandson’s unexpected departure. “He will always be a Kuroo, but he is a member of the main branch now, and it’s important he be recognized as such.”

Yahaba rolled his eyes and gave his young charge a disapproving glance at the slip up before huffing out a sigh and frowning at his superior. “You _are_ worried though, Nekomata-sama. I’m sure we could follow after them, we have enough time to separate the young master from Sawa-san before anything untoward occurs. I can easily call Kyoutani and request their location.”

He reached into his pocket, clearly about to retrieve his phone to do just that before Nekomata raised a hand, stopping Yahaba in his tracks.

“No. That won’t be necessary.” Nekomata’s stare was intent and both Yahaba and Kindaichi stilled, clearly taken back by the firm rebuttal.

“Considering we are still not certain if you and the young master are still in danger, it’s not safe for him to be going out on his own. Additionally, might I add, if anyone were to find out that the young master left with the artist people would talk, Nekomata-sama,” Yahaba pointed out, visibly frowning. “You’ve been trying to arrange for a possible match for him with someone from the Fukurodani or Shiratorizawa clans for months now. This could ruin that.”

“No one that we should be concerned about knowing of Tetsurou’s untimely departure was at tonight’s event. You made sure of that with the roster you were able to obtain from the talent agency supplying the doormen and valet for the gallery. Besides, negotiations with Fukurodani have continued to be difficult and I’ve begun to worry that Shiratorizawa is not the best choice for finding Tetsurou a partner, either.” Nekomata reasoned, though he truly did appreciate Yahaba’s sense of discretion. It was one of the reasons he trusted Yahaba as much as he did, and why he was one of his best foot soldiers and usually, his preferred sounding board.

Yahaba’s father had been his right-hand man for many years, and Nekomata had been pleased to find that the boy had adopted the same level headed, taciturn focus that most outside individuals would underestimate merely due to Yahaba’s presentation as an omega. When Yoshimune had passed, Nekomata had been quick to tap Shigeru, his son, as his replacement despite the wide age differential between them and internal protests.

“What do you mean?” Kindaichi asked, apparently curious enough to break his own self-imposed silence that had been meant to keep him safe from Yahaba’s possible scrutiny. “I thought you felt Shiratorizawa would be a good ally to have in strengthening the ties between the remaining clans?”

“It’s not untrue,” Nekomata agreed, nodding to Kindachi in agreement of the observation, “but I don’t believe Tetsurou’s temperament is well matched to Semi Eita, the member they put forth for consideration. Their last meeting was…strained, to say the least. That, and the young clan head, Ushijima is less likely to throw his support behind our efforts of repealing the gender discrimination laws from what I’ve been able to discern.”

“Huh? They don’t like the laws any more than we do, I thought?” Kindaichi asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

Nekomata frowned, debating internally just how to word his concerns. “They don’t,” he slowly agreed, “but they also—Ushijima at least—don’t see the payoff in trying to be proactive in pushing for change. From my discussions with him, I’ve gathered the impression Ushijima feels it’s below them to be bothered with such a task. He’s more concerned with focusing on increasing the prominence of his clan’s standing as a means of protecting his members, which was why it was so easy to get him to agree to having Semi Eita meet with Tetsurou to see if the match might be agreeable. Ushijima recognizes the strength of our clan and there are no families as old as Nekoma that have maintained their bloodline as strictly as we have.”

Prior to the dissolution of the shogunate government that had existed before the modern governmental system, Nekoma had been an active and much relied upon spy group that belonged to the elite Oniwaban caste that worked as undercover agents for the shogunate.

Their duty had been to supply intelligence to the Shogun, the military leader appointed by the Emperor to act as a de facto leader of the country. This intelligence had consisted mostly of information pertaining to shogunate officials and the many feudal lords that had ruled under the Shogun. Though it had eventually become less common over time, they had also, when needed, provided protection to important government representatives at the Shogun’s behest. 

The aim of the Oniwaban clans from the very beginning had been to prevent the risk of insurrection against the shogunate by way of knowledge collection and preemptive action. There had been a multitude of clans at one point, spread out across the many prefectures of Japan but time, and circumstances, had ultimately not been kind to their profession. There were only a handful remaining now; Nekoma, Fukurodani, Shiratorizawa, Inarizaki, Nohebi, Karasuno and after a fashion, Seijoh which due to external pressures years before, had been pulled under the umbrella of Nekoma in an attempt to stabilize the floundering clan that had been nearly destroyed by the previous leader’s apathy and neglect.

With the onset of the Bakamatsu revolution, things had changed drastically for the Oniwaban clans. The isolationist policy that had long been the norm had been lifted, and with it, a influx of foreign powers had subsequently flocked to the country. The involvement of these outside countries in Japan’s politics made the already tumultuous political landscape quickly untenable. Despite the best efforts of the Oniwaban clans to prevent the inevitable from occurring, the shogunate fell, and with it, the Meiji reformation began.

The Meiji Era that followed had been just as unstable in a great many ways and the remaining Oniwaban clans that hadn’t been wiped out during the upheaval of the revolution were left to find a way forward. Their skillset had always been specific, however and business had been hard to come by as a result. Though the new government had petitioned them to come work on their behalf, the clan heads of the remaining families had made the unilateral decision to turn down this offer due to conflicting views with the new seat of power, particularly regarding ideological values.

The years that spanned the Meiji Era were known as the great reform due to the rush that took place to mold Japan’s economy and societal facets to better fit Western sensibilities in an effort to ‘modernize’ the country. There was a very real fear of the possible colonization of Japan by either the British or Americans who had been dogged in their pursuit of Japanese trading rights and resources. The reformation in some ways, had been an attempt to stave off this potential risk.

It had not been an enthusiastically supported campaign, however. To say there was resentment felt by the bulk of Japanese society was an understatement. Their very way of life had been denigrated, and in that tumultuous period, a great many people felt that their government had no power at all but was merely a placeholder for the Western powers to press their agenda.

The changes had been subtle at first, regarding secondary gender rights, but the Oniwaban families had seen the writing on the wall long ago and it came as no surprise when the legislation known as the ‘Omega Edicts’ was passed. The piece of legislation severely reduced omega citizens’ rights to better compliment Western values, and though there was pushback following the passage of the new laws, any dissent was quickly and swiftly quelled, sometimes with deadly consequences.

It ran counterintuitive to the old ways that had been in place for thousands of years prior, and sentiment had been slow to change. The Oniwaban clans were some of the small groups who clung to the old ways as years passed and continued to reject the government’s laws on the matter, though they did so discreetly to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

It was well known, even in the current age, that those supporting the old ways refused to forget the teachings of their predecessors where omega presenting individuals had been admired and given equal autonomy and rights. It was never quite forgotten that male omega individuals in particular had, at one point, been venerated by certain Shinto sects for the ability to give life, a gift they said, that had been given to them by the Gods.

Time pushed on, and with it, so had the remaining Oniwaban clans who vowed to see an end finally put to the discriminatory restrictions placed on their omega men and women. Nekoma and the other clans had found ways of fostering and utilizing their long held talents through unique means, cultivating power in the shadows.

In the Nekoma clan’s instance, corporate espionage had been a unique means of obtaining wealth, power and with it, influence. Shiratorizawa, one of the other large clans, had adopted a similar focus, though it was generally agreed upon as good form to steer clear of businesses centered in the respective regions of Japan each clan held power.

The rules of engagement were clear—the Oniwaban clans were to make no effort to acquire or usurp each other’s corporate holdings or other business ventures. They were to support each other, and their ultimate aim was to apply pressure to susceptible governmental members that held financial stakes in the businesses they held sway over by tightening the purse strings, so to speak.

“You’re being very lenient with the young master for running off with the artist, Nekomata-sama.” Yahaba observed, settling into the front seat of the town car while Kindachi and Nekomata made themselves comfortable in the backseat.

The question was clear, even though it hadn’t been posed as one.

“I remember what it was like to be young once, Yahaba-kun,” Nekomata admitted, and smiled a bit at the stunned way Kindaichi was openly staring at him. “Tetsurou is a good boy, and while he can certainly be mischievous, I don’t think I have anything to fear in regards to him getting into trouble. Sawa-san’s manager did not seem to find the behavior very normal for him, either.”

“He did seem a little cagey, though,” Kindaichi mused.

“He was trying to act as if he knew where Sawa-san was, which is understandable. It would not reflect well on Sawa-san if he were to suddenly depart before the evening had concluded.” Nekomata mused as he let his arms slowly cross over his chest in thought.

“I also don’t think he was being entirely untruthful, either. I do think Sawa-san might have been feeling unwell. He was almost entirely still when he stated as much.”

“You’re so good at reading body language, Nekomata-sama. I…didn’t pick up on that at all.” Kindaichi was nearly pouting with the admission, his expression pinched in disappointment.

“You will get better at it, Kindaichi. You’re young yet and you are specialized in other ways that are equally important to shadow work.”

Yahaba snorted softly from the front of the car, his gaze focused on the road ahead as he took them back to the Nekomata family compound. “Don’t give him false hope, Nekomata-sama.”

Kindachi released an offended huff at Yahaba’s barb and glowered none too subtly at his mentor, since he knew saying anything would only end badly for him, ultimately.

“So that’s it, we’re just going to allow the young master to cavort around the city with this artist, propriety be damned?” Yahaba’s expression was wary.

“For the moment, yes. After tonight, however, I want you to find out all there is to know about Sawa-san on the off chance this is not a passing interest on Tetsurou’s part. I will chat with Kyoutani separately, as well, to gather his impressions of the man.”

“If this continues you know there will be resistance, his involvement with an outsider. The family won’t like someone outside of the clans becoming involved with the young master.” Yahaba quietly murmured, the sound nearly drowned out by the soft thrum of the engine and the road beneath them.

“I do,” Nekomata agreed before falling silent, an unspoken signal that they had reached the end of their discussion on the matter.

Thankfully Yahaba and Kindaichi were familiar enough with his moods to keep quiet and Nekomata exhaled softly through his nose, gaze shifting to the window beside his seat that peered out into the brightly lit world beyond, his expression tired and drawn as he considered his grandson’s uncharacteristically brash behavior.

It was true that tongues would wag if news of what had happened tonight, got out. If Tetsurou been younger and more spiteful, Nekomata might have believed the boy’s actions an attempt to rebel against the expectations being placed on him. His grandson was too forthright a person to do such a thing, however and Nekomata was certain it had been an unscripted decision on Tetsurou’s part to leave so suddenly with the artist. It had been too abrupt for anything else. 

Tetsurou, who was no fool, was bound to have anticipated the blowback it would cause and yet still found it worthwhile for some reason.

There were very few things in the world that would cause Tetsurou ignore all pretenses of propriety, not to mention his safety or his duty and Nekomata was unsure of what to do if the suspicions he had, were confirmed.

_‘Sometimes, we don’t get the chance to choose what—or who— our heart wants, do we, Tetsurou?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always happy to have fellow Haikyuu/ KuroDai fans squeal with me over this great series. Come find/add me at twitter if you like: @solarsunfire


	3. Daichi's Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kuroo makes a move, Daichi struggles with wanting to ignore his responsibilities and Suga gives Daichi a piece of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii!
> 
> Here's the next installment, as promised! I had fun with this chapter, especially being able to finally cut my teeth on writing a bit of soft!Kuroo. I'm such a sucker for the thought of him fussing over Daichi and the two of them being sweet with one another in private. Of course Daichi is going to be completely done with it by the end of things (but secretly we all know he likes it). 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Music Inspiration:  
> Say You Won’t Let Go— James Arthur  
> King of Anything—Sarah Bareilles  
> Caught In The Middle—Paramore

The remainder of the ride to his apartment was relatively quiet, for which Daichi was grateful. The occasional wave of cramps caused by the onset of his pre-heat would hit him unexpectedly, making him less than sociable as he breathed through the pain. It didn’t help that he was continually fighting to push down and hide his discomfort from Kuroo, already feeling guilty for having pulled the man into the unmitigated disaster that had become of their evening.

Daichi knew Kuroo was aware of the ebb and flow of his pheromones by the subtle way the man’s fingers would clench against his knees, and he felt utterly ashamed to be the cause of Kuroo’s unsettled state. He wasn’t ignorant of how much he was probably inconveniencing Kuroo at the moment and Daichi for not the first time that evening, was struck by the sheer kindness and empathy Kuroo apparently possessed beneath the aloof front he normally wore. Most people would have complained, made some sort of snide remark by now but Kuroo had simply remained quiet, shooting him concerned glances every now and then.

When they turned down the street his building lay off of, Daichi cleared his throat when the car finally grew close enough for him to make it home on his own. “This is fine, Kyoutani-san, my building is just around the corner. I can walk from here.”

The blond man started to pull the car over with a wordless nod and Daichi glanced from the quiet man to Kuroo who was frowning back at him, apparently aware of what Daichi was about to attempt.

“Sawa-san, that isn’t safe.”

“It’s really not that far Kuroo-san, and at this time of night, the risk of me running into anyone is low.”

Kuroo actually had the nerve to roll his eyes, and Daichi scowled back at him, his lips pursed in clear displeasure at the dismissal of his words.

“It’s exactly because it’s this time of night that you shouldn’t chance it,” Kuroo firmly insisted. “I’ve gotten you all the way here, what’s a short trip further to your door? Humor me, please.”

“This is ridiculous,” Daichi grumbled. “I can handle myself just fine. I’m not as helpless as you think, really.”

Kuroo’s gaze was amused now, much to Daichi’s ever growing frustration and the brown haired man pointed at his companion in warning when it looked like Kuroo was about to say something undoubtedly witty.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Kuroo protested, though the amusement on his face was only growing, a half grin already tugging attractively at his mouth.

Kyoutani grunted and released something close to a sigh from the front of the car, apparently done with the whole situation at hand.

“We’re wasting gas you know,” Kyoutani grumbled.

Kuroo slowly pulled his gaze from Daichi to peer right back at Kyoutani, the half grin he wore widening even further.

“Kyo-kun, why, I never took you for an environmentalist.”

“Fucking move, already,” Kyoutani snapped, actually turning around to glower at Kuroo. “I want to get back before the boss does, alright? I don’t want to be anywhere near you when he gets home. Yahaba’s going to be a fucking pain in the ass to deal with as it is since I can’t tell him about this. I’m not adding anything more to my shit list.”

Daichi, seeing an impending explosion imminent, cleared his throat again. “Come on, Kuroo-san. My apartment is just around that corner.” He popped open the door and paused just long enough to direct a smile towards Kyoutani who was still glowering at Kuroo, thoroughly pissed off.

“Thank you for the ride, Kyoutani-san.”

At the thanks, Kyoutani’s eyes flicked from Kuroo to Daichi and he brusquely nodded before turning back around, clearly uncomfortable with the acknowledgment.

“Alright, alright,” Kuroo acquiesced, well aware he was reaching the limits of Kyoutani’s patience and waited for Sawa to exit the car before following after the shorter man.

“You really shouldn’t rile him up, Kuroo-san,” Daichi mused, and waited for Kuroo to join him on the curb before crossing the empty street towards a somewhat darkened path that led directly up the hill where his tiny apartment complex sat. “He seems like the type to be antagonized fairly easily.”

“That’s pretty astute of you, Sawa-san,” Kuroo hummed, and Daichi almost missed the tiny, pleased grin the tall man shot him in the gloom of the evening as they passed beneath the occasional street lamp that lined the sidewalk they had ended up on.

“People aren’t so hard to read, if you know what to look for.”

Kuroo hummed and folded his arms behind his head with surprising ease considering the constriction caused by the fine red button up and gray suit vest he still wore, the both of which looked custom fitted to his frame. Daichi had to quickly pull his gaze away from admiring the tautness of the fabric over Kuroo’s clearly lithe frame and completely missed the assessing gaze Kuroo had turned on him from beneath his dark lashes.

“No, they really aren’t,” Kuroo agreed. “How’d you get so good at it? Was it from studying people’s movements as an artist?”

“Something like that.”

Daichi didn’t say anything else and instead started up a set of stairs that led to the back entrance of the building he lived in. Not wanting to dawdle, already able to feel another wave of cramping pain close to coming, Daichi quickly pulled his apartment keys out and unlocked the door to the lobby, gesturing Kuroo in ahead of him.

“Nice building,” Kuroo noted, following Sawa through the lobby to the elevators that sat opposite a wall made up almost entirely of small, aluminum mailboxes.

“It’s nothing special, but I like it. The other tenants are quiet but friendly and my landlady is nice enough to check in on my cat for me sometimes when I get held up working late at the studio.”

Kuroo shot Sawa a surprised and equally amused glance as they stepped into the elevator.

Daichi quickly pressed the button for the third floor.

“I didn’t take you for a cat person, Sawa-san.”

“Well, you really don’t know me,” Daichi pointed out, rolling his eyes at Kuroo’s amusement, “so it’d be pretty hard for you to judge something like that accurately, Kuroo-san.”

The elevator car they were in came to a stop and Daichi had hardly waited for the doors to slide open before he was moving down the hall towards his home, Kuroo nearly lock step with him due to his insufferably long legs.

“Hm, that is true.” Kuroo admitted, pausing beside Sawa who had stopped before a door set at the very end of the hallway. Though it was faint, Kuroo could smell Sawa’s pleasant, floral tinged scent emanating from beyond the doorframe, marking the unit as belonging unmistakably to the shorter male. He couldn’t discern any other, foreign scents, either which was a bit of a relief for reasons he wasn’t about to think too much on. His gaze shifted from the bronze numbers set into the otherwise simple front door and he peered thoughtfully down at Sawa who was busy flicking through his keys, grumbling absently to himself as he tried to find the correct one.

Now was as good a time as any to ask to stay in touch, Kuroo mused.

It wasn’t a prudent thing to do, not with the effort his grandfather was putting towards trying to find him a mate among the other clans, but there was something disarming and comforting about Sawa he couldn’t quite ignore. He was pleasant to be around, and Kuroo would be lying if he didn’t find the other man attractive, either. Perhaps he could delay things a bit longer with his grandfather, or maybe even get him to give up on his efforts of trying to find him a mate from Fukurodani or Shiratorizawa. It wasn’t as if his grandfather was too old, he was still going strong and Kuroo’s need to produce an heir could be pushed back a little longer while he tried to figure out if there weren’t ways to bend their traditions, but still meet his grandfather’s expectations.

“What if I wanted to get to know you, Sawa-san?” Kuroo finally asked, no longer allowing himself to second guess or overthink his decision.

Daichi’s grip on his keys failed, the mass of metal and plastic baubles falling to clatter loudly on the floor. They were both silent as Daichi’s gaze rose to meet Kuroo’s, shock and a little bit of confusion clearly reflected in his brown eyes.

“What?” Daichi breathed out when he finally managed to collect himself and his suddenly scrambled thoughts. “Why would you…”

Kuroo took advantage of the shorter man’s frozen state to bend down and retrieve Sawa’s keys for him. Once he was upright, he promptly held them out for the other man to take and noted with no small amount of pleasure that Sawa’s gaze apparently hadn’t left him at all in the short time Kuroo had turned away. 

“Because I’ve enjoyed talking with you. Whether it was about poetry or your art, you’re engaging and pleasant to talk to, Sawa-san.”

Kuroo watched the brown haired man’s cheeks flush with his words, irrefutable proof the other man hadn’t been left unaffected by Kuroo’s honesty and fuck if that blush wasn’t goddamn _precious_ on Sawa.

“You just met me tonight, that’s…” Daichi trailed off, the next words he’d been about to say dying on his tongue.

After a heartbeat of hesitation, Kuroo watched Sawa slowly reach out to take the proffered keys. He couldn’t help but take notice of the way the artist’s fingers were quivering just a little as they brushed against Kuroo’s palm in the process and it took everything he had to push down the urge to take Sawa’s hand into his own. He wanted to chase away the tiny tremors that looked so wrong against Sawa’s paint stained, perfect fingers and Kuroo absently found himself wondering if the man’s hand would fit just right in his own, warm and comforting in it’s weight.

Kuroo found himself captivated when Sawa straightened up a second later and despite his clear nervousness, boldly met his gaze, apparently having mustered some sort of courage and determination to face him.

Even though Kuroo could tell the other man was clearly feeling out of depth in the current situation, it only furthered his belief that there was more steely fortitude to Sawa’s disposition than he’d first thought. Kuroo would be less than honest to say he didn’t find that fact very attractive indeed, and he kept silent for a moment longer as he observed the way Sawa was staring at him, gaze searching but tinged with what he thought might be hope.

“It isn’t that hard to see, Sawa-san,” he chuckled quietly, and decided to return to his teasing in an effort to help Sawa relax. “People aren’t so hard to read, if you know what to look for.”

Daichi squinted up at the taller man when he realized Kuroo had just parroted his own words from earlier back at him, and tried for a scowl that he could already feel probably came across less than convincing.

“You’re trouble,” Daichi huffed.

“Didn’t claim not to be,” Kuroo grinned, taking it as a good sign Sawa hadn’t tried to refute his words, “but I’m the good kind of trouble you’ll find, Sawa-san.”

“That’s a complete contradiction, there’s no such thing.” Daichi retorted, breathing out a soft laugh against his better judgement, aware it would only encourage Kuroo.

He struck him as the shameless type, if nothing else.

He’d already lost this battle, Daichi could feel it in his bones and if he’d had more energy, maybe he’d have tried to put up more of a fight, to tell Kuroo thanks for seeing him home safely and then commit to never seeing him again. He didn’t though, he couldn’t, not when the passing thought flickered through his consciousness that maybe he didn’t want to fight the strange pull Kuroo had over him, but give into it instead.

“Well, maybe you just have to find out for yourself if that’s really the case?”

Kuroo’s light retort broke through his thoughts and Daichi found himself staring silently at the taller man, gaze considering but uncertain before he finally released a rather heavy sigh and reached up to rub at his pounding forehead. The pressure had been building since they’d climbed into the car, and now Daichi could feel the growing headache steadily taking root with every passing second.

He really needed to lie down and not be thinking about Kuroo’s charming grin, or anything else, for a while. Pushing back his reservations about what he was about to do, Daichi turned to face the taller man, leaning just slightly against his doorframe for support. 

“Okay. I was going to ask you to come by the gallery next week, so we might as well exchange numbers to set up a time.”

“O-okay?” Kuroo stuttered out and Daichi had to fight back a smile at how stunned his would be savior looked at his sudden acquiescence, utterly destroying the aloof front the other man had been trying to maintain.

Clearly, Kuroo had been anticipating Daichi to put up more of a fight in regards to allowing them to meet again which was curious on it’s own, but also strangely entertaining. 

“And wait, the gallery? But why?” Kuroo’s expression quickly turned from surprised to amused, if not a little questioning, too. It was interesting to see how quickly Kuroo was able to adapt and find his footing once he’d had gotten over his shock, and Daichi filed the information away for later consideration when he wasn’t feeling quite so spread thin.

Daichi, despite the growing pain in his head, managed a small smile as he started to unlock his door and he paused to glance back up at Kuroo. “It’s a surprise, so don’t ask. Listen, I really do appreciate you getting me out of there without anyone knowing what was actually going on. I don’t mean to come across ungrateful, it’s just…I’m not used to this kind of thing.”

“Sawa—”

“My name is actually Sawamura Daichi,” he interrupted Kuroo, certain the man had been about to try and brush off his thanks and he smiled somewhat sedately at the taller man, feeling more than a little dizzy from the headache. “Sawa is just an alias. So, if you and I are to get to know one another, that’s a good start. Just please don’t tell anyone my real name.”

Even through his discomfort, Daichi had to admit the beaming smile that spread across Kuroo’s mouth was undeniably attractive and Daichi only just barely managed to muffle a chuckle, enjoying how much younger it made the other man look.

“Sa’amura, huh?”

“You heathen,” Daichi groaned, his gaze turning sharp with disbelief. “It’s Sa-wa-mu-ra.”

“Right, got it. Sa’amura.” Kuroo’s smile had already shifted from innocent joy back to fully devious and Daichi sighed, rolling his eyes. The man was nothing but an overgrown child, truly. 

Before he could think better of it, he held his hand out in a grasping, gesturing manner for Kuroo to hand off his phone.

“Whatever. Give me your phone.”

Kuroo gave him a mock look of wariness and Daichi returned the look with a flat one of his own as the taller man handed off his unlocked phone with a theatrical flourish. Taking the device from Kuroo without another word, not about to acknowledge the man’s antics, Daichi quickly typed in his contact information and name before handing the device back.

He didn’t miss how pleased Kuroo looked right then as he glanced at Daichi’s contact information and Daichi couldn’t push down the irrational satisfaction he felt at the knowledge that he, in part, was the cause of that pleasure. It was a dangerous train of thought, he realized immediately and Daichi softly cleared his throat, suddenly wanting to retreat into his apartment and hide away from Kuroo and the confusion he inherently seemed to cause at every possibly opportunity.

“I’ll make sure my schedule is clear for you to come by. I, uh, should be fine by next Wednesday so any time after that works for me.”

Kuroo’s expression lost all levity, and the facade of them pretending as if there had been another reason for Kuroo’s current company evaporated completely, leaving an awkward silence stretching between them for a few unbearable seconds. 

“You going to be okay?”

Daichi smiled a little at the uncharacteristic hesitance in Kuroo’s voice and calmly nodded, breathing out a tiny sigh of relief with the stilted silence was broken. “I’ll be fine, Kuroo-san. I still have a day to get settled, it could be worse.”

“Yeah, ‘worse’ almost happened tonight I’m pretty sure,” Kuroo dryly drawled.

A light laugh left him before he could stop himself and Daichi’s cocked another tiny smile at Kuroo. “Almost,” he softly agreed, “but you pulled me out of there. So it all worked out. I, uhm—I do think I should get inside, though.”

The tops of Kuroo’s cheeks flushed a little at the gentle reminder of Daichi’s current state and Daichi had to bite the inside of his lower lip to fight off another smile that wanted to break loose at the endearing image the other man made right then.

“Yeah, that’s…you’re probably tired. Take it easy, Sawamura.” Despite his flustered attitude, the look Kuroo leveled him was earnest and this time, Daichi did not try to fight the smile that upturned his mouth as he stepped inside. Slowly gripping the door, Daichi glanced back over his shoulder at the tall alpha looming outside his doorway.

“You too, Kuroo-san,” Daichi murmured, “have a good night.”

Kuroo cocked a tiny smile back at him and it was the last thing Daichi saw as he closed the door. He stood there in the entranceway of his apartment for a long moment before sagging back against the hardwood surface he’d just secured, a shaky sigh leaving him as he tried to bring his quickly beating heart back under control. Faintly, he could hear the sound of Kuroo’s departing footsteps suddenly start up and he swallowed reflexively at the realization Kuroo had lingered outside his door a little longer than necessary.

Daichi didn’t relax fully until he could no longer hear Kuroo and he pushed himself away from the door to slide off his shoes and trundle into the kitchen to check on his cat’s food and water bowl. Finding their current state still more than satisfactory, Daichi moved to retrieve a cup of water for himself in the darkened room, surprisingly parched. His headache was definitely worse now, and Daichi knew he’d need some ibuprofen before long if he wanted to be fit enough to lay down for bed soon.

What was he doing, truly? He’d probably asked himself the question more times within the last hour than he had since the start of his career as an artist when he’d first moved to Tokyo.

It had been normal, back then, to doubt himself after deviating from the path he’d walked for so long. The course of his life had always been certain. The expectations for each year of his youth and eventual maturity had already been planned out in full detail, especially after he’d presented as an omega. Daichi could not deny that when he’d been younger, there had been some comfort in knowing what to expect, to never have to think about the implications of certain decisions because they had already been laid out and decided for him long ago.

He never stayed sentimental long, while thinking of the past. Invariably, whenever he was feeling homesick and thinking back on what he had left behind, Daichi would eventually remember how constrained and limited he’d felt in Miyagi and the recollections were enough to dampen any wistful feelings he might have had.

The truth was, Daichi knew his life circumstances could have turned out very different for him, had he belonged to any family but the one he’d been born into. His family, while concerned over his decision to leave, had ultimately respected it and supported him in his dream to try and make his way in Tokyo as an artist while he still could. It was more than a lot of people with his secondary gender could expect or hope for, unfortunately and Daichi tried his best to honor their faith in him even more because of it, especially since he knew his time in Tokyo was limited. Every day that passed, the clock ticked down to the moment when he’d have to leave and return to Miyagi in order to see that he fulfilled his family’s unspoken expectations.

It had always been easy to doubt if his decisions were leading him down the right path. Daichi understood the doubt, thrived on it, even— but this, whatever it was he’d found himself caught up in with Kuroo, was anything but easy to understand. It left him feeling unsteady and out of sorts, and Daichi didn’t like how vulnerable it left him.

Daichi, despite his distracted state, finally made it to his bedroom and sagged down onto the mattress, lightly depositing his glass of water on his waiting nightstand so he could shrug off the far too warm coat he had on. He froze when the tantalizing smell of sandalwood and natural musk rose up around him with his abrupt movements and he shivered, suddenly reminded of the fact it was Kuroo’s coat wrapped around him, and not his own.

It felt strangely intimate, having Kuroo’s smell mingling with his in the private sanctuary of his bedroom, and for a moment he was stunned to realize he didn’t find it unpalatable. He’d had Takeda over for dinner a couple times before, and Daichi had been unnerved to have another’s scent mixed with his own in the privacy of his home. It had felt foreign and unsettling to experience, even though he very much liked Takeda and trusted him without any reservation.

So why didn’t he mind having Kuroo’s scent in the most private of his spaces?

Daichi slowly slid his arms out of the jacket before gathering it into his arms to smooth the rumpled lapel of the finely woven gray wool overcoat the man had lent him, gaze unfocused in thought.

They had chemistry, that much Daichi understood. The teasing had come easily to them, but so had thoughtful, pleasant conversation. It had been enjoyable talking with Kuroo when he wasn’t being childish, though there was a certain charm to his immature deviousness and errant behavior that Daichi would never outright confess to finding amusing, either.

Kuroo was, to put it simply, an enigma in Daichi’s otherwise carefully structured world. There were no labeled boxes he fit in that would allow Daichi to compartmentalize the other man and the strange rapport they shared.

He wanted to push it from his mind, to forget about it, but he couldn’t. All he could think of was Kuroo’s concerned gaze and earnest smile, which was beyond infuriating and more than a little confusing.

Sighing in frustration at his own thoughts, Daichi stood up suddenly, determined not to think of Kuroo for the reminder of the evening. Despite his agitation with the absent man, he carefully hung Kuroo’s coat on the hook beside his bedroom door where a couple of his own jackets and scarves hung, unused. He’d take Kuroo’s jacket to be properly dry cleaned when his heat was over, but before he saw Kuroo again. It was the least he could do for having inconvenienced the other man so much.

Gathering his night clothes, Daichi quickly showered, too tired for anything else. His headache had eased none by the end of his shower, so he swallowed down a couple ibuprofen before brushing his teeth, movements mechanical and halfhearted in his exhaustion. Already feeling half asleep, Daichi moved back to his bed and unceremoniously flopped down, wiggling tiredly beneath his nest of sheets with a bit of effort. The warmth of the lingering heat from his shower and the comfortable mattress pulled a yawn from him immediately and Daichi let his eyes slide shut with a soft sigh, trying not to think about how he was going to have to apologize and explain himself to Takeda tomorrow.

Daichi sleepily registered a soft bounce atop his mattress and felt his cat, Aiko, make her way towards his chest where she unceremoniously plopped down and immediately took up purring as Daichi’s hand settled over her side, petting slowly.

He murmured a soft goodnight to his tiny companion and despite his best efforts to keep Kuroo from his mind, his last thought as he drifted off was how he could still smell the faint scent of sandalwood and earthy musk in the air as if Kuroo was laying right beside him.

xXx

The sound of his alarm was not the thing that ended up waking Daichi up the next morning, but instead the ringing of his cell phone. Groaning, his head still pounding a little, Daichi reluctantly emerged from the cave of covers he’d been burrowed beneath to blearily squint at the clock atop his nightstand.

“What the hell,” he groaned when he saw it was just barely past six. It was far too early to be receiving calls of any kind, frankly. Which meant it had to be either something genuinely serious, or it was Suga. Well on his way to being annoyed, Daichi picked up his phone to check if his hunch was correct and sighed at the sight of his best friend’s name and contact picture lit up on the screen.

Tapping the answer button to accept the call, Daichi lazily flopped backward onto his mattress and raised the phone up to his ear, eyes immediately sliding shut now that he was once again horizontal.

“Suga, you do realize what time it is, right? Please tell me everything is okay.”

Pleasant laughter echoed through the phone and Daichi, despite his irritation at being woken up so early, found his lips upturning just a little at the familiar sound.

“Daichi! C’mon, you used to get up around this time when you still lived with the rest of us boring country folk. You haven’t gotten that soft already, have you?”

“No,” Daichi groggily sighed, having hoped Suga would hold off on his teasing for just a little while he woke up a bit more. He knew it’d been a long shot, though.

“Last night was just… rough. I kinda need some extra sleep.”

“Like drinking-too-much-rough?” Suga playfully teased, “or dealing-with-pretentious-assholes-rough? Mister, I expect details of your big night. Especially since we couldn’t come out to celebrate with you!”

Daichi could already imagine the annoyed, exasperated look on Suga’s face and he snickered a little, blinking his eyes open to stare sleepily up at the ceiling of his bedroom as he collected his thoughts.

“I wish I could blame it on drinking too much,” Daichi muttered, before hesitating and lapsing into silence. He trusted Suga, more than anyone else in the world, but he still felt embarrassed and confused over what had happened the evening before and he wasn’t even sure where to start.

Suga released a soft, choked sound through the phone. “Daichi, did you…”

“Did I what?” Daichi asked, thoroughly confused in his sleep addled state that even his embarrassment was temporarily forgotten, attention completely fixated on his friend.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Suga awkwardly cleared his throat. “Did you, you know… bring someone home with you?”

“What? No!” Daichi sputtered, face heating up to an extent he was sure it might actually burn off with the way blood was quickly rushing to his cheeks and he shot upright, jolted completely from his relaxation with the question.

“Why the hell would I have brought someone home? You know I’m not into one night stands!”

“Well it could’ve not been a one night stand, I don’t know! Maybe you’d started seeing someone.” Suga countered. “Hell, I think a good ole’ dalliance would’ve done you some good. You’re so tense all the time, Daichi.”

Daichi rolled his eyes and scowled, even though it was useless without Suga there to see it.

“You know why I don’t want that, Suga.”

“Yeah, I do.” Suga sounded a little put out. “You’ve set the bar kinda high though, Daichi. Your parents are ridiculously cute and stupidly in love but it’s kinda…unrealistic. I’m not saying it’s impossible for you to find something like that, just that it’s less likely. I don’t want you to miss out on something because you were so set on things needing to be a certain way.”

“It’s not like that,” Daichi murmured before he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration while he tried to collect his thoughts. “I mean, it doesn’t need to be exactly the way it was with them. I just…I want a connection, a real connection.”

Daichi stubbornly told his mind to shut up when it helpfully supplied that he and Kuroo had most certainly felt a connection the night before, enough that Daichi had given Kuroo his number and real name. **_Oh shit_**. Grateful that Suga wasn’t around to watch him slap his palm vigorously against his forehead in panic, Daichi forced his mind back to the conversation at hand, and promptly shoved his ongoing internal freak out to the side to be dealt with later.

“Don’t even get me started on how they’d also need to pass muster with the family, Suga. That’s something I don’t even want to think about on a _good_ day. You know it’s complicated.”

Suga exhaled on his end of the line and Daichi felt a brief flicker of guilt.

“I’m sorry, Suga. I didn’t mean to grouch at you. I know you mean well.”

“I just worry about you, Daichi. We all do. You’re right though, about the family,” Suga admitted. “Ukai oji-sama is probably going to be worse than your parents when you settle on someone, finally.”

“At least I won’t need to worry about him trying to set me up with one of the Miya boys anymore at that point, that’ll be nice.”

“Oh God, you could do _so_ much better.” Suga giggled, and the sound pulled a couple snickers from Daichi on principle, the tension between them fading away into nothing once more. The friendship he’d built with Suga had always been easy and effortless like that, for which he was extremely grateful. Though they were related by blood—they were cousins, actually through the Sugawara line— the two had long held the reputation of being inseparable and more attuned to one another than even some bonded pairs managed.

Suga sighed, and Daichi yawned, the two of them lapsing into a peaceful silence as Daichi slid out of bed and began to shuffle towards the kitchen to make some coffee since there was definitely no way he was going to be able to fall back asleep.

“Are you ready for the festival next month? Hinata has been practicing like mad with Kageyama. They’re so excited to finally be able to enter into the contests that I’ve had to physically threaten them to take it easy a couple times. I’m not as good at keeping them in line as you, though.”

“Those two… I was hoping they would’ve calmed down a little, but that doesn’t surprise me.”

Daichi was pretty sure Hinata didn’t understand the meaning of calm, unfortunately. It made the younger man certainly tenacious in his efforts to learn everything and anything that Daichi and the older experts of their community tried to impart to the junior members, but it also meant that he didn’t know his own limits and was more liable to be hurt or burn himself out. It hadn’t happened yet, thankfully, but Daichi worried it was inevitable at the rate Hinata was going.

“I’m curious to see how they’ve come along, they have to be getting very good. The last time I saw Kageyama he was almost as good as you with the Bo staff, Suga.”

“I think he might be better than me already, Daichi,” Suga sighed, though there was no real animosity in his voice and a tiny laugh escaped his friend which told Daichi just how proud Suga was of their young kouhai. “What about you? How’s your training coming along? I hope you’re not slacking. Ukai oji-sama would have a fit if you didn’t keep strong.”

At the question of his own progress, Daichi frowned as he genuinely considered his current fitness. It wasn’t something he’d had too much time to think about recently, but he knew that’d have to change.

“I’ve been keeping up on my exercises for the most part. Getting the gallery ready for opening took a lot of work, though—more than I expected. I have time to get some extra practice in now that it’s done, anyway so I should be okay. I’m sure as hell not letting either of the Miya boys get one over on me, that’s for sure.”

Suga hummed in understanding, the sound somehow able to come across teasing to Daichi’s ears. “Please don’t. I expect to see you put them on their asses like always. So how it did the gallery opening go last night, really?”

“It was pretty successful, I suppose,” Daichi carefully chose his words, already trying to think up just how to explain everything that had happened in a way that wouldn’t set Suga’s protective instincts off unduly since the man had already been wound up a few minutes before. “There were a lot of people there, more than I think Takeda-san even expected. He was trying to get me to schmooze with some of the more prominent attendees, and I was pretty much done with it all half an hour in.”

“You gotta flaunt it, Daichi! Takeda-san has the right idea. You’re a big shot now, you need to shake that money maker!” Suga cheerfully reminded him and Daichi didn’t even try to fight back the incredulous snort that he released in retort to that, nearly on the cusp of outright laughing.

“You’re making me sound like a stripper, Koushi.”

“Well you _do_ have the body for it.”

“ ** _Anyway_** ,” Daichi cleared his throat, and stubbornly ignored the snickering he could hear on the other end of the phone, “I ended up talking with one of the guests for a good amount of time. Takeda-san was pretty sure he was the grandson of some bigshot Tokyo mogul and bullied me into talking with him so I ended up showing him the back room where I work on things, since he was really into my artwork.”

“Oooh, the back room tour, eh? _Scandalous_. I sense a massive revelation impending, do go on.”

Daichi cringed a little at Suga’s teasing, and balefully wondered if it wouldn’t be possible to avoid his best friend for the whole of the time he was in Miyagi next month. Maybe by the time he actually arrived, Suga’s anger would be cooled enough that Daichi wouldn’t get smacked around and punched for his idiocy, though he didn’t think he’d be quite so lucky. Suga was a spiteful man with a tendency to hold grudges, and he was equally ferocious in his defense of those he loved.

Neither feature boded well for Daichi, at the current moment considering what he was about to tell Suga.

“Well…ah, you know how I was getting that new endocrine suppressor medication that was supposed to reduce the length and impact of your heats?”

Suga was silent for a heartbeat, before he answered, the levity completely gone from his voice, leaving only tentative cautiousness. “Yes? You said you were going to start it this month.”

“It uh, kinda failed last night. So I sort of…entered into pre-heat when I was talking with the guy Takeda-san pushed on me.”

Suga let out a string of curses so foul Daichi almost worried his phone might melt, but it was what he’d anticipated, and he dutifully listened to the creative insults, cringing only occasionally at the particularly violent threats his friend uttered.

“Daichi, what the actual fuck?!”

“I didn’t know it was going to happen! I couldn’t just not attend, either. Please don’t make a big deal out of it and get crazy, _I’m fine_.” Daichi pled and immediately winced when Suga released a high, offended screech at being called crazy.

Well, that had been a poor choice of words— even if it was completely accurate.

“Kuroo-san got me home safe. He was a complete gentleman and didn’t do a damn thing to me so chill, Suga.”

“You do not get to tell me to ‘chill’ after admitting you were potentially in a position to be assaulted, Daichi. You’re so goddamn lucky he wasn’t a creep, you realize that, right? Holy shit, your parents—”

Daichi cut Suga off before he could finish speaking.

“Don’t.”

The warning was clear, the edge to his voice reverberating hard through the phone and it made Suga take pause. Daichi knew Suga wouldn’t dare breach his trust, not when he was alright and nothing undue had happened, but to even suggest he’d bring the matter up to Daichi’s parents was a betrayal in of itself.

“Daichi—I wouldn’t, God you know I wouldn’t say anything but seriously, _what the fuck_! How am I supposed to react when my best friend has his second gender nearly outed and was also put at risk of something even worse happening to him, potentially?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything at first, Suga,” Daichi sighed, tiredly sagging against the kitchen counter as the anger bled from his frame, the exhaustion that had been plaguing him since the day before taking root again. “I knew you’d be upset. There’s no reason for it though. It happened, it’s over and I’m fine.”

The silence stretched between them until Suga exhaled slowly and Daichi immediately knew it signaled the end of their argument. Suga had a violent temper, yes, but he was also good at bringing it to heel when called for. Daichi knew he wasn’t in the wrong on this, and so did Suga.

“I’m sorry. You’re just…you’re my best friend and I love you a lot, Daichi,” Suga murmured, the regret he felt ringing clear in his words. “Since you left home, I think all of us have been worried about you in one way or another. What you’ve done—what you’re _doing_ , no one has ever brave enough to try until you did.”

“You know I’m going to have to come back eventually, Suga,” Daichi quietly murmured. “This isn’t permanent. You know the expectations my family has for me.”

“Do you really need to though, Daichi? Ukai oji-sama already gave you his blessing, and he didn’t say you had to settle down here, exactly. So your parents want you to bond with a ‘proper’ man, so what? We’re not in the goddamn eighteen century anymore, bloodlines shouldn’t matter for shit.”

The conversation wasn’t a new one, but every time it came around, it left Daichi feeling utterly bereft of hope and questioning why things had to be the way they were. Daichi never knew what to say, because he had no answers. Why did he have to be born the eldest of his siblings, to the family that he had? Why did he have to be an omega? None of it was what he wanted for himself, but there was no way he could escape his duty and the many responsibilities that were forced upon him by nature of who he simply had been born as.

“I can’t just walk away, Suga. Because then it’ll be one of the twins that ends up in the same position I’m in. How could I do that to them? I might not be able to fight this, but I can give them the chance to, at least. Mom and Dad won’t care who they bond with and what they do with their lives so long as I do the right thing. Ukai oji-sama might not say it, but I know he’d prefer it if I go along with what’s expected of me, too.”

Suga let out a strangled sound of frustration that was quickly followed by a groan. “You’re too goddamn good for your own sake, you know that, right? You’re…you’re always so _reliable_. I don’t get how you can be so honest and selfless sometimes, Daichi. I wish you were more selfish, you know? None of us would blame you for wanting to stay in Tokyo and live your life.”

Daichi slowly smiled, despite the pain throbbing in his chest. He couldn’t fight back the upswell of sheer gratitude he felt for Suga’s unwavering support and constant friendship. It was a good thing that Suga couldn’t see him right then because the edges of his eyes were quickly blurring as he teared up a little, overwhelmed by the conversation and everything he’d been through over the last few days. “Yeah, I know,” he quietly admitted and was proud when his voice broke none, allowing him to successfully hide how affected he was by Suga’s earnestness.

“Okay, you know what. You’re coming out early this year so we can hang out like old times. We’re not going to worry about anything, we’re just going to have fun and screw around before the festival.” Suga abruptly decided, and Daichi was sufficiently caught off guard by the sudden switch in topics, his mind scrambling to catch up with Suga’s path of thinking.

“But—”

“We’ll get the whole gang together and take Sendai by storm!” Suga crowed, bowling past Daichi’s attempt to talk him down. “Then maybe we can go fishing at the mountain lake, it’s too cold still to go swimming though, unfortunately. Oh! You and Asahi can bring your famous bento boxes and we’ll feast like kings! It’ll be the perfect spot for a picnic, don’t you think?”

Daichi glowered at his slowly percolating coffee machine as if it were to blame for Suga’s far too bubbly machinations so early in the morning before he huffed out a sigh, already well aware there was no way he’d be able to stop Suga now that he’d reached full steam in planning things.

“Yeah, it sounds nice,” he reluctantly admitted. “I’m going to have to see if I can take off extra time though, Suga. I’ve already given Takeda-san the dates for my trip out to Miyagi and he’s been kind enough to promise to watch the gallery. I’m going to feel bad asking him to watch it a little longer than he first agreed to.”

“You’re paying him, Daichi,” Suga chuckled. “I’m pretty sure he’s not going to mind watching the gallery a bit more. It’s part of his job, isn’t it? Don’t stress so much, you’re going to give yourself gray hairs.”

“Shut up,” Daichi groused, “I am not.”

“Or an ulcer!” Suga gleefully cackled.

“Why am I friends with you, again?” Daichi dryly inquired and was rewarded with an offended squawk, much to his bemusement.

It hadn’t passed his attention that Suga had intentionally pulled him from his misery, and had Daichi not known Suga for the length of time he had, he probably would have missed the careful effort the man was exerting to draw Daichi away from his darker streams of thought. Sometimes, Daichi forgot how well Suga knew him and it was a humbling reminder, to have Suga trying even from hundreds of miles away to cheer him up.

Suga breathed out a light laugh, clearly not about to take Daichi’s question seriously. “Because you and I both know too much about each other to give up now. No one else will put up with your crap the way I will.”

Daichi sighed and silence fell between them, though it wasn’t strained like it had been earlier.

“Hey, Suga?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Daichi murmured. “For everything, like always.”

“Anytime, Daichi. I might be in Miyagi but I’m always just a train ride away.” Suga earnestly stated and it made Daichi smile, just a little.

“So then…” Suga hummed and Daichi, who was just beginning to relax, tensed when he heard Suga’s tone shift to something devious, his senses screaming at him to prepare and get away from whatever verbal ammunition Suga was making ready to use.

“Do tell me about this Kuroo-san. A gentleman, you called him, I believe?”

Yeah, nope. He was not doing that. Suga was going to murder him, but Daichi was not about to touch that topic with a ten foot pole right now, not even with his best friend.

“Oh, would you look at that. I just realized I forgot to run and get some groceries before my heat starts tomorrow. Gotta go, bye Suga.”

“Daichi, don’t you _dare_ —”

Without missing a beat, Daichi ended the call and calmly set his phone down before pouring himself a very much needed cup of coffee, uncaring about the wrath he’d likely just incited with his obstinance.

If the phone rang a few times while he leaned against the counter and nursed his coffee in an effort to steel himself for the day ahead, well, he couldn’t be blamed if he conveniently didn’t hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Miya twins, truly! So please don't kill me. My decision for him wanting nothing to do with the idea of bonding to either of them stems from Daichi having grown up with them after a fashion. Since he's been exposed to the whole of their craziness/feral idiocy it's kinda taken any romantic interest off the table for him and let's be honest, Daichi would lose his shit real quick if he had to bond to either of them.


	4. Round 2, Fight! (Takeda vs. Nekomata's Machinations)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yahaba struggles with Kyoutani's mistrust, Nekomata makes a move and Takeda finds himself just a little in over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> Happy to bring the next chapter to you all. For all the Takeda fans out there, I hope you enjoy this chapter! We get to learn a little bit more about his background and dive into the interesting history his family possesses which will be important in later installments. 
> 
> The battle of Sekigahara was a real battle that took place in October 1600, and is considered one of the more important battles in Japan's history. The victory of the Tokugawa family at the battle of Sekigahara led to the establishment of the Tokugawa Shogunate which would rule Japan for the next three centuries. It was a pretty bloody battle too, there are some estimates that losses could have run as high as 32,000 men. 
> 
> The Takeda clan (two branches in particular) did have courtly ties to the Shogun at one point, but I have taken certain liberties here simply because I can. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy! All comments and thoughts are appreciated, as always! 
> 
> Music Inspiration:  
> Flaws—Bastille  
> Human—Rag’n’Bone Man

It had been five days since Nekomata had last seen Kyoutani, though it was not for lack of trying on his part.

He had repeatedly stopped by Kyoutani’s rooms, only to find them empty and the younger man’s scent markedly faded which told him his target was probably hiding out somewhere else until the dust had fully settled, which was smart.

Kyoutani had clearly anticipated that Nekomata would have no compunctions trying to corner him to discuss the events at the gallery the week before, and Nekomata would be the first to admit the man had good instincts to think so far ahead.

Those instincts were part of the reason he’d tapped Kyoutani to act as his grandson’s bodyguard, but at the moment they were giving him more grief than he’d have preferred to deal with if he were being completely honest. It didn’t help that he was certain Tetsurou was involved in encouraging Kyoutani’s shifty behavior and maybe even assisting him in hiding out somewhere within the estate.

Nekomata was a busy man, unfortunately and while he would have loved to continue attempting to intercept Kyoutani, he had reached the end of his patience in allowing the game of cat and mouse to go on as it currently was.

He was aware of the complicated nature of Yahaba and Kyoutani’s relationship, and it was the only reason he had not attempted to draw Yahaba into his efforts out of respect for their involvement with one another. They were not quite courting, as far as Nekomata knew, though he had made a point of telling Yahaba he held no reservations in supporting such a bond if that was what his young advisor truly wanted.

From his position behind his large desk, Nekomata studied Yahaba’s turned profile, the younger man seated at his own workspace and currently engrossed in what Nekomata knew to be intelligence reports submitted by their plants within the two companies they were presently preparing to take over. Though he would prefer not to lower himself to such tactics that required involving Yahaba, Nekomata knew he had already gone too long without receiving a summary from Kyoutani regarding the events of Tetsurou’s disappearance with the artist.

He was still trying to determine who Sawa-san truly was, and if his grandson was at risk of inviting danger into his life by interacting with the artist. If he was, then Nekomata needed to know sooner rather than later. Yahaba had assured him that Tetsurou had not yet made physical contact with the artist since their last meeting, but it was a paltry consolation when there were still far too many unknowns in play that couldn’t be as neatly pinned down as Nekomata would have liked. 

Though he was loathe to break the companionable silence he had settled into with Yahaba in the privacy of his personal office, Nekomata had no choice and reluctantly cleared his throat to catch the younger man’s attention.

“Yahaba-kun, would you have happened to see Kyoutani-kun, recently?”

With his gaze already focused on the brown haired man, he didn’t miss the way Yahaba’s shoulders tensed before they forcibly rolled down in an attempt to regain their previous casual posture.

The action was telling to Nekomata, it meant Yahaba was clearly trying to act as if nothing were wrong.

“It’s been a couple of days,” Yahaba admitted, and it was only Nekomata’s familiarity with his second in command that he could tell Yahaba was trying to make his voice sound as casual as possible.

“Is he avoiding you as well, then?”

Yahaba shot him a sharp look as he turned quickly about in his seat in stare incredulously back at him, all earlier efforts of trying to pretend to be calm, lost in seconds.

“Avoiding you? He’s been _avoiding_ you? That idiot,” he was scowling now, clearly agitated by the knowledge he’d just acquired. “Of all the stupid things to go and do. It’s one thing to freeze me out, but _you_? I know he doesn’t respect me, but for him to ignore you—that’s just—”

Nekomata, for a moment, was struck silent by the expected but no less volatile landmine of Yahaba’s ire.

“Yahaba-kun,” he started, a little hesitantly, because he had the sudden impression he’d walked into something that might have been better off left alone. “I’m sure that’s not true. Though I would like to know what you mean by freezing you out.”

Yahaba’s face darkened for a millisecond before the man quickly reigned in his anger, just as Nekomata had taught him. It was clearly a sore subject, and while Nekomata was familiar with Yahaba and Kyoutani’s complicated, sometimes tense relationship, it had never carried quite this undercurrent of contentious friction before.

“Just that. He’s freezed me out. I tried to get him to tell me where he left with the young master from the gallery the other night, but he told me he didn’t want to talk about it. He got pissed at me when I pressed him on it and stormed out saying I needed to mind my own business and keep out of his. We haven’t talked since.”

Yahaba’s couldn’t hide how upset he truly was, least of all from Nekomata. He was too old and experienced in studying others, especially when it came to the wellbeing of his men which he took pride in ensuring, just like he would any member of his own direct family.

“I’m sure you know better than most how volatile Kyoutani-kun can be when pressed into a corner.” Nekomata gently reminded Yahaba, studying his young second with thoughtful eyes. “Doubly so when it is you doing the pressing.”

There was a long silence that stretched between them, the only sounds that filtered into the room coming from the busy courtyard below where some of their men were likely taking their lunch. Nekomata didn’t mind the quiet, aware that Yahaba probably needed time to sort through his thoughts and the older man comfortably leaned back in his seat to patiently wait until Yahaba was ready to speak his mind.

“He’s supposed to _trust_ me, Nekomata-sama,” Yahaba quietly murmured. “How can I bond with someone who doesn’t?”

Nekomata hummed softly in understanding and steepled his fingers together, his elbows propped up almost precariously on the arms of his chair.

“Expectations can be poisonous to any relationship, Yahaba-kun,” Nekomata finally replied, his gaze lingering on Yahaba for just a brief moment before it slanted towards the partially opened window that framed the gently swaying branches of the willow tree looming upward from the central courtyard below. “I’m not saying that it is not good to have standards as to how you should be treated, but you cannot expect your partner to give you something simply because you think you are owed it. You expect Kyoutani-kun to trust you but this cannot be done blindly. Especially not for someone of Kyoutani-kun’s background and disposition. Perhaps you should first ask yourself if you trust him?”

“What?” Yahaba blurted out, his response coming a little too fast and too heated. “Of course I trust him!”

“Do you?” Nekomata’s eyes shifted back to Yahaba and the young, brown haired man stilled beneath the intense focus of his boss’s stare, frozen in place. “Truly? Do you trust that he had reasons for refusing to speak with you about the matter? Should that not be enough?”

“I…but…we needed that information.” Yahaba trailed off, the confident mask he’d maintained up to that point crumbling into nothing, leaving only vulnerability in it’s wake.

“It is my suspicion that he was holding back details not because he was feeling antagonistic and distrustful, but because he had other obligations that prevented him from doing so.” Nekomata quietly murmured, voice uncharacteristically gentle as he watched the conflict flicker so clearly in Yahaba’s brown eyes. “My grandson has probably instructed him to remain quiet and Kyoutani is caught in conflict over his duty to Tetsurou and myself. I do not envy him being put in such a situation, even though I do wish he’d stop trying to give me the slip, it’s gone from being subtle to being outright obvious.”

“He’s always had a problem with authority,” Yahaba grumbled, his own brow furrowed in thought.

Nekomata could tell a little bit of the man’s anger was ebbing, which he was pleased to see and it brought a small smile to his weathered lips.

“I wouldn’t have him any other way, Yahaba-kun. Take my advice for what it is—the advice of an old man long past his prime in romance—but I think if you can trust Kyoutani-kun to tell you what he can, when he can, that trust will be rewarded. You must never think of your relationship in ‘I versus you’ terms. It must be a partnership in every sense of the word, my boy. Especially if you wish to bond with one another.”

“You’re not that old, Nekomata-sama,” Yahaba mumbled, looking thoroughly embarrassed by the current vein of conversation as he shifted nervously in his seat, not unlike Tetsurou was prone to doing when he was being lectured, too.

For a moment, Nekomata saw only Yahaba the child, brimming with energy and always asking questions, never far from his father’s side. It made him feel his age, despite Yahaba’s assertions otherwise and Nekomata breathed out a light chuckle to hide how weary the thought made him.

“I’m not as young as I used to be, Yahaba-kun,” he mused, voice giving away some of his exhaustion as he slowly flipped open the file he’d ignored in favor of speaking with Yahaba to begin shuffling through it’s contents. “I am constantly reminded of the fact our family is barely maintaining balance above the precipice of extinction with my sons now dead and only Tetsurou to pick up the reins after I am gone.”

“The young master is capable, Nekomata-sama, however young and inexperienced he might be—”

“I know the clan will do well with him leading it,” Nekomata shook his head, because that was not what he had been trying to insinuate, that he didn’t believe Tetsurou capable of being a steadfast leader for their clan. “He is not mated yet though, or have heirs of his own. If he were to die now, the main line will end. That will send the clan into a power struggle among the minor branch families, leaving us vulnerable and susceptible to outside elements who would also like to take advantage of the chaos for their own benefit.”

“We’re doing all we can to keep him safe, Nekomata-sama,” Yahaba insisted, the frown taking root on his mouth, at a loss of how to console the older man. “Please…I know you worry about him, but I really do believe he will be alright. The young master is smart, and he’s aware of the position the clan is in. If anyone were to be able to wile their way out of something, it’s the young master.”

“Perhaps, but we still haven’t determined who was responsible for the murder of my sons. I don’t doubt they wouldn’t see Tetsurou killed either, if they had their way. Tetsurou is still at risk. A quick tongue and wit can only protect one so much,” Nekomata frowned, but Yahaba also noticed that the man’s posture had relaxed some, which was a good sign.

“I’m quickly learning that myself,” Yahaba joked at his own expense.

Thankfully, it had the intended effect as he noted a tiny smile had begun to tug upward at Nekomata’s lips.

“I’m certain if you were to apologize to Kyoutani-kun, all would be forgiven. Don’t worry about it further, I’ll speak with him and find out what I need on my own about the little detour he took with Tetsurou.”

Yahaba nodded, looking a little uncertain but Nekomata knew the younger man had taken his words to heart and would try to mend things with Kyoutani at the first available opportunity.

“About the artist,” Yahaba gently directed the conversation away from Kyoutani and their troubles. “Iwaizumi-san still hasn’t been able to find anything on him, yet. I have him using his resources to scour the family registry records prefecture by prefecture for people fitting his description, but it’s taking time. Not having an actual name to go off of is making it complicated.”

“It might be worthwhile to do a sweep of his manager’s home, then. We have that man’s name at least so we can easily track down his address. He’s likely to have a copy of whatever contract he’s drafted with Sawa-san, those should use the man’s real name.” Nekomata released a low hum of thought, absently tapping his fingers together.

Yahaba nodded and immediately started typing out a text to Iwaizumi to look up all records on Takeda Ittetsu, a little embarrassed he hadn’t thought about that idea himself.

“I can reach out and provide an opportunity to make certain the man is occupied long enough that Iwaizumi and Oikawa can comb through his home and get the information we need,” Nekomata mused aloud before Yahaba could say anything in response, the older man’s eyes sparkling with a type of sharp calculation Yahaba had come to learn prefaced Nekomata’s inevitable involvement on a mission.

Not even about to argue, well aware it would get him nowhere, Yahaba sighed and nodded.

“Please call up Sawa-san’s gallery and extend an invitation to Takeda-san. We will have him over for a meal at his earliest convenience to discuss a possible commission by Sawa-san.”

“Of course, Nekomata-sama.”

xXx

With Daichi still out on his self-imposed sick leave while he dealt with his heat, Takeda couldn’t help but find the gallery rather lonely.

Despite the unease he felt in the stiff silence of the building, the lack of distraction it afforded him did make it easier to focus on the stacks of paper that he was currently in the process of grading.

Takeda, in addition to working as Daichi’s manager, was also a high school teacher and it had understandably made keeping to the normal hours of the gallery a little difficult over the last few days. He’d decided to make up for it by staying as late as he could in the evenings, just so that the gallery would be open for at least a few hours each day, and thankfully they’d gotten a little business as a result. Daichi had insisted it wasn’t necessary for him to stay so late, that the gallery could afford to handle being shuttered most of the day for the short time he’d be away dealing with his heat, but Takeda knew it was better that he still try.

He was grateful that Daichi had apologized for running off with Nekomata’s grandson as much as he had, but really, the stunt had shaved off at least a couple years of his life even though he now understood there’d been no way around it. He’d been so worried about Daichi, and the fact the man hadn’t even responded to his texts until a day _later_ had almost driven him to call the police out of a very real concern something bad had occurred. Daichi was normally the paradigm of responsibility, and it hadn’t been hard to worry over the radio silence.

It was evening on the Tuesday before Daichi was due back when the phone in the small office of the gallery where Takeda was working rang suddenly and he jerked, just barely moving fast enough to save his pile of paperwork from colliding with the ground in his fright.

“God,” Takeda muttered, sending the far too large stack of paper a harried look to make sure it was staying put before he scrambled to pick up the phone, tucking it immediately between his shoulder and ear as he answered. That’d been far too close for his tastes and he was pretty certain his blood pressure had gone up a few points at the sheer fear of having the paperwork fly everywhere.

“Good evening, you’ve reached Sawa Studios, how may I be of assistance?”

“Is this Takeda-san?” An unfamiliar voice echoed through the phone, causing Takeda to still, caught off guard by the fact someone was looking specifically for him.

“This is he. May I ask who’s calling?”

“My name is Yahaba Shigeru. We met at Sawa-san’s gallery the other night? I’m Nekomata-sama’s assistant. We weren’t directly introduced, unfortunately. Do you have a moment to speak right now? I can also call back at a later time if it’s more convenient.”

At the mention of Nekomata, Takeda was set immediately on edge and he briefly weighed the benefit of putting off the conversation Yahaba wanted to have. No matter how much he worried over Nekomata’s motivations, he couldn’t deny Daichi whatever opportunities the man might be prepared to offer. Someone of Nekomata’s social standing in Tokyo circles might bode very well for Daichi if they were able to capitalize on their association correctly.

Left with no real choice, Takeda fought back an exasperated sigh.

“I have time now, Yahaba-san. What did you wish to discuss?”

“Wonderful, thank you. Nekomata-sama wanted me to call you to see if you might be willing to meet him sometime this week to discuss a potential commission?”

Takeda blinked when Yahaba cut straight to the chase and his mouth worked itself open and closed a couple times before he remembered himself and brusquely cleared his throat in an attempt to collect his composure.

Nekomata wanted a commission. An actual, honest to God commission.

“Ah, this week? Well…I possibly could, but maybe it’d be better to shoot for this weekend? I’m busy during weekdays until four in the afternoon, usually.”

“Nekomata-sama has no problems meeting you in the evening if that is more convenient,” Yahaba smoothly reassured.

Takeda knew he had no way to counter that without seeming suspicious and the last thing he wanted to do was make a poor impression considering the opportunity they were being given.

“Then I am happy to meet with Nekomata-san whenever it best works for him.”

Yahaba released something like a pleased sound on his end of the line. “Tomorrow, then? We will come and pick you up, since you’re going out of your way to speak with Nekomata-sama.”

“Ah, well…” Takeda found himself balking at how quickly Yahaba was moving on setting up their meeting and couldn’t help but wonder how much of an impact Daichi must’ve left on Nekomata’s grandson for the man to be this eager to secure a commission. Left with no real way to turn down Yahaba’s offer, Takeda nervously cleared his throat and acquiesced. “If it’s not too much out of the way, it would be a help if I could be picked up from Tokyo Metropolitan Kokusai High School.”

“You’re a teacher?” Yahaba sounded surprised at the fact, and Takeda, despite the churning anxiety he was suffering through at the thought of having to face Nekomata again, still found himself laughing a little at the question.

“Acting as a manager even for someone as successful as Sawa-san isn’t quite enough to get by in a city like Tokyo. I was a teacher before I started assisting Sawa-san and I like it too much to stop, even if I had the option.”

There was a quiet murmur of conversation on the other end of the line that Takeda couldn’t quite make out before Yahaba cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Takeda-san. Something came up so I’ll have to say goodbye for the moment. Thank you for taking my call. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

Surprised but not at all about to protest being left to his grading once more, Takeda kindly wished Yahaba well. “Thank you, Yahaba-san. Take care.”

There was a quick exchange of similar well wishes from Yahaba before the line cut out and Takeda slowly returned the phone to it’s plastic cradle, expression stunned.

He was almost tempted to call up Daichi, but his younger friend was still recuperating, and he didn’t want to get Daichi’s hopes up if the commission conditions ended up not being satisfactory. Takeda still needed to determine just what Nekomata was hoping for and if their current timeline of producing works would even be acceptable for the older man.

Not too much later after hanging up with Yahaba, Takeda finally wrapped up his work in the gallery and after shutting down and securing the building, he made his way home.

Dinner, along with the rest of his evening, was a distracted affair, his mind too caught up in the potential what-ifs of meeting with Nekomata that Takeda found it hard to focus on much else. He wished he had someone to talk with right then, another mind who could help make certain his next steps would truly represent Daichi’s interests to the best of his ability.

It was sad, but the truth was Takeda had few friends in Tokyo and none of them, save for Daichi, would understand his worries properly. 

He’d never really made friends easily, even though he liked to think he was friendly and welcoming as a person. Takeda knew most people considered him just a step away from being socially awkward, that they wrote him off as a little ‘odd’ and though he didn’t let it stop him from living his life or being himself any longer, he still wished he fell more into the realm of what most people considered normal.

It’d be easier to meet people that way, to maybe find a partner who didn’t immediately balk at his love of all things literature, or his hobby of collecting and propagating orchid cuttings.

But it was okay, he told himself, even as he let his eyes slide over his lifeless living room and he mused how nice it’d be to have someone to lean on for a change instead of having to shoulder so many things on his own. He was fine by himself, though, and he would continue to be.

Shaking his head dismissively at his thoughts, annoyed with himself for having fallen into such a negative headspace, Takeda quickly turned off the living room light and made his way towards the bathroom to clean up before bed.

He fell asleep with not too much effort and before he knew it, the sun was already peaking in through his parted curtains, signaling it was time to rise.

The start of the next day went by in a blur, his focus in class just barely holding as errant thoughts of his impending meeting with Nekomata unkindly inserted themselves in his mind at the most inopportune of moments.

It was going to be fine, he told himself. This wasn’t the first commission they’d ever received, and they’d previously done business with the Imperial family. This would be nothing in comparison, really.

As a black, sleek town car pulled up outside of his school’s front gates at the end of the day, Takeda knew he was fooling himself, especially when Yahaba—at least he presumed it was him since the man looked familiar—slid out of the vehicle with a polite but expectant smile.

“Hello Takeda-san,” Yahaba bowed to him, forcing Takeda to do the same immediately in return while the shorter man gestured for Takeda to climb in. “Please, Nekomata-sama is looking forward to meeting with you.”

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to it as well,” Takeda slanted a smile at Yahaba before sliding in, taking care to not jostle his briefcase too much as he settled into the opposite end of the back seat. The niceties were expected, but still awkward and Takeda could tell Yahaba was just as aware of it and uncomfortable with it as Takeda probably was.

“I appreciate you driving out of your way to pick me up.”

Yahaba nodded as he settled into the vehicle, shutting the door behind them both. “It was the least we could do after asking you over on such short notice. I’m sure you and Sawa-san are very busy with his gallery just having opened up, so we’re grateful to have a bit of your time.”

Takeda noticed the gaze of the severe looking blond man behind the wheel discreetly flicker towards Yahaba and then him before shooting away immediately after. Well, that was curious, Takeda mused. He’d seen enough loaded glances exchanged between his students to be able to determine that Yahaba and the mystery man were, for whatever reason, having issues with one another, if he had to guess.

“It’s been an interesting adjustment, certainly, opening the studio. I’m certain we’ll adjust to the new influx of business soon and this really wasn’t any trouble. Sawa-san will be delighted to entertain another commission if his timeline permits.”

“His timeline? Has he gotten many commissions recently?”

Takeda nodded while tilting his hand in a side-to-side manner as if to say ‘kind of’. “We’ve certainly had more requests since his commission with the Imperial family, but because of the gallery opening I had to insist we not take more than a few at a time. Sawa-san is stubborn, and once he’s agreed to work on something, he will work as hard as necessary to meet his deadlines. That can actually harm his creativity, however when he has multiple works to worry about so I try to stagger the requests as much as I can.”

Yahaba was staring at him, clearly surprised, and Takeda had to suppress a smile.

“You seem to understand Sawa-san very well, for you to be able to manage him so effectively.”

Takeda hummed, and pretended not to have noticed the unspoken question in the other man’s words, already having learned his lesson with Nekomata the week before. “I suppose teaching children has given me a good perspective on fostering healthy working habits.”

The driver up front released a muffled sound of what might’ve been amusement at his subtle rebuff, and Takeda discreetly watched Yahaba twitch at the sound. He didn’t miss the quick glance Yahaba slanted the other man’s way, either, but thankfully the small sound seemed to have put a damper on Yahaba’s efforts to pepper him with questions for the remainder of their ride.

Takeda appreciated the silence since it allowed him to study their ascent up into the hilly terrain approaching the edges of Tokyo that slid seamlessly from industrial high rises to a quiet, residential area that harbored large estates with gated front yards and large parcels of land to match. It was so different from the tightly packed condominium buildings and complexes where the bulk of Tokyo’s citizens dwelled that Takeda almost felt, strangely, like he was back in Miyagi with how spacious it all felt. Based off the strikingly different property zoning, Takeda could tell it was an older quarter of Tokyo, one that predated the need for careful city planning and the sheer affluence the area harbored was unmistakable in the neatly manicured hedges and expensive cars that dotted the front driveways of certain properties.

The building they finally pulled up to was traditionally styled and very grand, a mix of old and new architecture that made it clear the house itself had been there for quite some time but had recently been updated with a clean, modern façade that was tasteful in it’s simplicity.

Yahaba was the first to exit the car and Takeda slowly clamored out behind him and for a moment, let himself truly study the large home. He noted immediately that there seemed to be a few men positioned intermittently around the perimeter of the front of the house, which was all he could see at the moment. Takeda wondered if they weren’t perhaps security of some sort, but they were dressed rather casually for the role, leaving him uncertain as to their real purpose.

“Is crime a large concern out here?” Takeda couldn’t help but ask, the amount of guards he’d so far seen seeming a little unnecessary considering the hefty gates they’d just passed through. It didn’t seem likely that anyone could possibly hope to scale the fence unless they were some sort of acrobat or part monkey, but Takeda supposed the rich had more to worry about losing than normal people.

Yahaba seemed to notice his line of sight and let out a tiny sound of surprise before he clearly hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. “No, not really. We had a bit of a…well, Nekomata-sama’s family was targeted not too long ago. It’s more to be safe than anything.”

Takeda shot Yahaba an alarmed glance, his eyes reflecting his concern as they made for the front door. “I’m sorry to hear that. I…forgive me for asking, but does that happen often due to Nekomata-san’s prominence?”

Yahaba opened up the door and gestured Takeda in first, the two of them taking off their shoes near simultaneously in the large entranceway. “No, it usually doesn’t.”

He knew he couldn’t or rather, shouldn’t, ask if anyone had actually been hurt during the attempt. He could tell from the way Yahaba was taking care to not divulge too much information and the way he was pointedly not looking at him, that it was highly likely. The knowledge felt too jarring to wrap his mind around, so he stayed quiet with his thoughts as Yahaba lead him through the large main building.

As they passed through the various corridors of the lower landing of the two storied home, Takeda was able to catch glimpses of the property that sprawled out behind the house, complete with small garden features and rolling, untouched hills and trees.

He was amazed to note at least three smaller structures in the distance that weren’t unimpressive in their own right, roughly the size of two normal households each. Nekomata’s property was huge, practically a park in it’s size from what he could currently view. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the large intercity estate the Imperial family resided in, or at least, the parts of it that Takeda had been able to see when he’d gone with Daichi to discuss the commission the Imperial family had put forward for Daichi’s services.

 _‘How could one family own so much land in Tokyo of all places?’_ Takeda wondered, truly dumbstruck for a moment by the realization of just how well off his host truly was. Nekomata’s remark the other night at the gallery opening about wanting to stay under the radar suddenly made much more sense. It wasn’t any wonder someone had tried to, and perhaps succeeded, in going after Nekomata’s family.

Takeda was certain there were people alive who would kill for Nekomata’s wealth, quite literally.

He was broken from his thoughts when Yahaba stopped suddenly and slid open a door before gesturing Takeda in ahead of him. “Nekomata-sama will see you here. I’ll let him know you’ve arrived. Please make yourself comfortable.”

Takeda nodded and stepped inside, his eyes immediately turning to studying the interior of the room he’d been brought to while Yahaba followed him in, closing the door behind them both before slipping towards an open shoji partition which he quickly disappeared through.

The room itself was modestly large and styled traditionally, but still cozy and bright, probably due in part to the delicately carved wooden panels that were set close to the ceiling which allowed natural light to pour in from the hallways beyond that flanked the room. Two of the walls opposite him were made up of delicately painted but sturdy sliding doors that were much more substantial than the shoji door Yahaba had just disappeared through and Takeda suspected they could be removed to make the room even more large, if necessary.

He didn’t move to take a seat at the low formal table that lay just to the left of the center of the room since his host had yet to arrive and instead made his way towards a rather prominent painting that hung near the far most wall. He marveled at the large, framed piece that was made up of five separate panels, his eyes squinting as he tried his best to determine what sort of material he was looking at.

Upon closer inspection, Takeda belatedly realized it had actually been, at one time, a rather large folding screen. It had been carefully mounted and preserved with clear care, and the artwork was no less impressive despite it’s obvious age. It was a samurai battle scene, chaotic in a way all such subjects generally were but lacking the true terror of what the men on the battlefield must have felt and experienced in the fray. The gold leaf detailing Takeda’s eyes traced across the piece of art felt inappropriate as a medium to portray the death and destruction of such a vicious battle, but he’d perhaps become too partial to Daichi’s understated style to appreciate the effect like he should. His eyes did not miss the unmistakable banners of the Tokugawa family spread out across the battlefield depicted in the painting, and because of the small detail, Takeda knew immediately what he was looking at.

“This is Sekigahara, isn’t it?” 

“You’re very astute to be able to discern that, Takeda-san,” Nekomata’s voice suddenly piped up from behind and Takeda was ashamed to say he let out a less than refined squeak of surprise, simultaneously rising off of the ground a few inches in reflexive fright.

“Ah, I’m sorry for staring so rudely, Nekomata-san,” he quickly apologized, spinning around and bowing quickly to the man a couple times in fast succession, thoroughly flustered to have been caught openly admiring the piece of artwork in such an intent way.

The older man, unlike the last time they had met, was now dressed in a more traditional manner. Nekomata had on a kinagashi styled kimono the color of steel and a tasteful, navy haori that accented the outfit and also seemed rather warm. Even in traditional clothing, Nekomata managed to strike an imposing figure and it would have been a lie to say that Takeda wasn’t intimidated, though he tried not to let it show.

Nekomata slanted a kind smile at him as if sensing his apprehension before waving off Takeda’s apologies. “It is displayed to be enjoyed, and for it’s history to be celebrated.”

Takeda relaxed a little with Nekomata’s reassurance and moved to the table when Nekomata gestured for them to sit. “I’m a fan of Japanese history, particularly the Sengoku Jidai period so please again forgive my focus on the painting. My family was involved in shogunate history to a point, so I’m particularly interested whenever I come across pieces, art or otherwise, detailing that era. The battle of Sekigahara was such a monumental moment in establishing the Tokugawa shogunate, so to see original art of it up close is truly amazing. ”

Nekomata’s eyes turned sharp and glittering as a slow smile spread across his mouth and Takeda was once again struck by the feeling of something close to what a creature of prey surely felt right before it was pounced on by an eager predator.

“So you’re one of those Takeda, eh? One of the high families the emperor recognized and gave social privileges to in order to compensate the land losses your clan suffered?”

“Ah,” Takeda was struck by the sudden thought that maybe he shouldn’t have said so much and immediately cursed how careless he could be when flustered. He could already feel his cheeks glowing in mortification that the conversation had shifted in such a direction. They were supposed to be talking about Daichi and a possible commission, not Takeda’s convoluted family history.

‘ _Oh god_ ,’ he started to panic internally, ‘ _did it seemed like I was bragging_?’ Takeda wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole right then, so mortified was he. It didn’t help that Nekomata’s mouth was slowly ticking up in a near devilish grin of delight which did not bode well for him in the slightest.

“That’s—we’re not—not anymore, I mean. It’s just a name at this point, Nekomata-san now that the noble peerage system is no longer in effect. Our position in the nobility ended when the modern constitution was written up following the end of the Second World War and all the noble families beyond the Emperor’s were dissolved. There’s nothing remotely highborn about my family. My father is a government worker and my mother a stereotypical housewife.” Takeda pushed up his glasses in a nervous, flustered gesture. “The last of my family to hold an actual title was my great grandfather. I’m exceedingly plebian, I assure you.”

“Exceedingly plebian?” Nekomata repeated, his eyes going wide in incredulity before the man erupted into sudden, deep laughter that left Takeda with no option but to stare at his host in bewilderment.

“Y-yes?” Takeda agreed, completely baffled now.

“Ah, forgive me for laughing. Your choice of wording simply got to me Takeda-san,” Nekomata came down from his laughter slowly, chuckling all the while as he gave Takeda a pleased smile. “I apologize if it seems that I’m digging. It’s not often I meet someone whose family once belonged to nobility. I imagine things might have been very different had we not adopted the current constitution we drafted following the end of the war with America and it’s allies. It makes you wonder sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Takeda understood that sentiment, better than most people, given his background. It wasn’t so much a bad thing, that the current constitution had been adopted—in fact, it had given much more power over to the general public, allowing nearly everyone to participate in the path their country took following the end of the Second World War. Almost everyone that was, except for omega citizens.

It was still a flawed system in that regard. The previous peerage system created during the Meiji era to restore power to the noble houses had been similarly imperfect, too, due in no small part to the omega edicts. For all the power his family had held in the emperor’s court, someone of Takeda’s secondary gender would never have been able to hold a formal court position even though he would have eventually possessed a title equivalent to a duke in Western terms.

“In some ways, perhaps,” Takeda acknowledged, tipping his head politely towards Nekomata before he straightened up, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “But even when power was based around the noble houses, many people were left behind and forgotten. The common people did not have a voice to advocate for themselves and their needs. In that regard, I do not find the older system necessarily better than the current one, truthfully. Yes, my family had much more land and there were quite a few royal benefits we received, but I would much rather prefer every citizen, of all genders, be given the right to participate in the shaping of our country and it’s future.”

Nekomata found himself smiling as he listened to Takeda. Even though his reason for asking the young man over had been contrived for the purpose of giving Oikawa and Iwaizumi the opportunity to explore Takeda’s apartment without fear of interruption, it was not hard for Nekomata to enjoy Takeda’s company. He couldn’t help but feel like he was already off to a good start in acquiring useful information, too, especially following the revelation of Takeda’s lineage.

If he remembered correctly, the Takeda clan had been sympathizers of those wishing for a reversal back to the old ways, at least that was what he recalled his grandfather having said. It had been many years since then, however and it would be something to verify in their records. Though from the way Takeda spoke, it seemed as if the young man held the same views as his predecessors.

Nekomata couldn’t help but find it interesting for the artist Sawa to be aligned with such a man, and he wasn’t so certain it was a mere coincidence.

“You are very kind to say such a thing, Takeda-san. It reflects on you well to wish for such social progress, even at the cost to your family.”

Yahaba entered into the room right then, carrying a pot and two teacups on a simple, lacquered tray that he gingerly set down on the ground as he knelt beside the table. He was efficient in proceeding to serve them Takeda noted, Yahaba’s movements careful and clearly practiced.

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes, Nekomata-sama.”

“Thank you, Yahaba-kun. Will you be joining us for dinner?” Nekomata inquired and to Takeda’s relief, Nekomata’s attention shifted off of him and to Yahaba’s bowed form. Takeda watched, a silent observer as the brown haired man completed serving Nekomata his own cup of tea before freezing at the question.

“No, Nekomata-sama,” Yahaba cleared his throat and regained use of his limbs long enough to gather up the discarded tray though he didn’t yet rise, presumably to avoid being rude by talking down to them at his full height. “I was going to see if I could find Kyoutani, if that’s alright.”

Takeda didn’t understand the full context of Yahaba’s statement but he could tell that whoever this Kyoutani was, Nekomata was pleased to have Yahaba searching after them.

“That is more than alright, Yahaba-kun. Please take the rest of the night off after seeing that dinner is brought in, I can manage just fine on my own, I promise.”

Yahaba flushed just a little and managed a small, short smile for Nekomata before rising with a nod. “Thank you, Nekomata-sama. Please excuse me, I’ll be back shortly with your food.”

Takeda watched him walk away before he glanced curiously at Nekomata, the satisfaction on the older man’s face hard to miss.

“They’ve been having some difficulty, those two. Especially recently,” Nekomata explained for Takeda’s benefit as he turned back to his guest once Yahaba had left.

“Though it’s always been that way, them dancing around each other.”

“Oh,” Takeda’s eyes widened in understanding and his thoughts immediately shifted to the stern looking driver that had ridden with him and Yahaba just a short while ago. “Now that you mention it, I noticed Yahaba-san was a little uncomfortable around our driver. Was that Kyoutani-san?”

Nekomata released a tiny laugh and tapped his hand atop the table in appreciation for Takeda’s astute observation. “Yes. That was Kyoutani. He likes Yahaba very much, and the feelings are returned I can safely say— but they’re both terrible with romantic matters, unfortunately.”

Takeda laughed a little as well and couldn’t help but smile at how fond Nekomata’s expression was right then. He found himself relaxing around Nekomata more easily than he’d expected and Takeda wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, yet. Considering they still hadn’t spoken regarding the suggested business proposal Nekomata had for Daichi, Takeda knew he couldn’t let his guard down completely. Nekomata was incredibly disarming when he wished to be, he was finding.

“I’m certain they will figure it out. I see high school couples do it all the time, so if my students can, Yahaba-san and Kyoutani-san will certainly be able to do the same.”

“Hm, I believe they will as well,” Nekomata chuckled before picking up his tea to take a tentative, careful sip. “Are you involved with anyone, Takeda-san?”

Takeda shook his head, only slightly surprised by the question. He supposed it wasn’t so strange for Nekomata to ask, considering the vein of conversation they’d just been in. “No, it hasn’t quite been my focus, either. Moving to Tokyo and getting settled took a lot on it’s own and with my duties at school and representing Sawa-san, I don’t really have time for it, either.”

“Well I find these things happen as they’re meant to,” Nekomata kindly reassured, taking care to keep his tone casual. “From what you said, it sounds like you’ve been representing Sawa-san for a while. Were you already doing that before you started teaching?”

“Oh, no,” Takeda laughed a little. “I was teaching before that, actually. Sawa-san and I are longtime friends I suppose you could say. I was actually a student teacher at his high school before I got my current job out here. We kept in touch and when he came to Tokyo, I tried to help out where I could. Somehow I ended up as his manager and we’ve never looked back since.”

“You’re a good friend to him then, Takeda-san. He’s doing wonderfully it seems, which I’m certain is in no small part due to your help,” Nekomata praised and Takeda found himself flushing a little and shifting in his seat, thoroughly embarrassed as he stuttered out his thanks.

“Where did you teach before, if you don’t mind me asking?” Nekomata lightly inquired, shifting the subject back to Takeda’s teaching pedigree.

“Oh, it was a small high school in Miyagi,” Takeda lightly flapped his hand through the air in a dismissive gesture, thoroughly done with talking about himself after having been embarrassed more than a few times already so far. 

Nekomata stared at Takeda as casually as he could considering his brain was firing off on all cylinders as he took in the information that Takeda, and apparently Sawa, were both from the Miyagi region. Memories he’d rather not recall swelled up suddenly. The ghostly sensation of hot summer days and the unending drone of cicadas as laughter echoed around him swelled to the forefront of his mind before he quickly batted the memories down, refusing to allow them a viable foothold in his thoughts.

“Really,” Nekomata intoned with more serenity than he actually felt in that moment, an entire lifetime of subterfuge making it almost second nature, but not truly effortless. “You must find Tokyo something of a beast, then. Miyagi prefecture is much more calm and slow paced compared to the city.”

“Ah, have you been?” Takeda was giving him an interested smile and Nekomata somehow managed to return the barest shadows of one.

Nekomata, in that moment, for all of his focus to avoid doing so otherwise, couldn’t help but think of how the one thing he’d loved most about Miyagi was no longer there. Despite his best efforts, the memories came trickling in, warm but tinged with a bittersweet melancholy he had never quite managed to shake.

**_‘Ne…What’s your name? I don’t think you ever said.’_ **

“Once—a long time ago, now,” Nekomata admitted, somewhat reluctantly.

**_‘I—I’m Nekomata Yasufumi.’_ **

“I would expect it’s probably changed from how I remember it,” Nekomata softly mused, mind already drifting to faded images of warm brown eyes and an even warmer grin.

**_‘Let’s be friends, Yasufumi-kun!’_ **

Some memories despite how much they hurt, were too precious to let go.

“Nekomata-san?” Takeda gently inquired, tone concerned.

The sound of the younger man’s voice was successful in breaking Nekomata from his thoughts and he quickly shot an apologetic smile to Takeda before refocusing on the task at hand. “Ah, I apologize, Takeda-san. I was caught up in my memories for a moment there, it seems. I suppose we should talk of why I asked you here, hm?”

“Well if you don’t mind,” Takeda nodded and Nekomata dipped his head in understanding before starting up his pitch, pushing memories of brown eyes and a wide, entrancing smile from his mind.

“You see, I had something in mind, a statement piece if you will…”

The dead were gone and nothing could change that, Nekomata reminded himself. Later, he could mourn the past, but only after he had seen to the future and ensured Tetsurou was safe.

‘ ** _My name is Sugawara Hiro! Please treat me kindly, Yasufumi-kun!’_**

xXx

For those interested in the artwork described by Takeda in his chapter, you can actually see the inspiration for it, here: 


	5. Burning It At Both Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi and Oikawa infiltrate Takeda's apartment, Kuroo is a step away from having a meltdown and Daichi intervenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> Happy Tet/Lunar New Year!
> 
> Hope your week has been lovely so far. I'm really excited for this chapter since we finally get to meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and get to learn a little of their own place in the grand scheme of things. I personally love what I have planned for Seijoh and Oikawa and I hope you will, too when we get to later chapters. 
> 
> I know the last installment and the start of this one haven't been geared as much towards the KuroDai agenda but it's been necessary for plot development. We'll be getting back into focusing more on Kuro and Daichi's developing relationship from here on out, though. I promise. 
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated. I hope you're not finding the pace of things too slow! 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Music Inspiration:  
> Pale White Horse- The Oh Hellos  
> Cold Is The Night- The Oh Hellos  
> Someone’s Someone- Monsta X

Iwaizumi Hajime frequently found himself questioning his sanity and considering if it wasn’t possible to change professions, the older he got.

It was in no small part due to the man loping along ahead of him, humming some obnoxious J-Pop tune like he didn’t have a care in the world.

For all intents and purposes, his companion looked every inch a normal, harmless maintenance worker in the crisp white slacks and matching button up the other wore, complete with a patch emblazoned on his back that read ‘Aoba Heating and Plumbing’ for extra effect. It was a disguise, one that like so many others, the slim man seemed to effortlessly blend into without any effort at all.

It was a deceptive front, because Oikawa Tooru was a great many things, but ignorant and harmless were not words Iwaizumi would normally use to describe the heir of Seijoh.

“Iwa-chan, hurry up! It’ll be midnight before we finish at the rate you’re walking!”

‘ _Nope_ ,’ Iwaizumi mused as his irritation flared in a practically Pavlovian response to Oikawa’s needling, ‘ _annoying is a much better description for the idiot_.’

“Well if someone hadn’t left me with both tool boxes to carry maybe I wouldn’t be falling behind, Shittykawa!”

Oikawa shot him a less than convincing pout that was punctuated by an obnoxious whine of protest at the insult.

Iwaizumi would never admit, even on pain of death, that he found Oikawa’s all too frequent penchant for pouting endearing. Oikawa would be nothing but insufferable about it and any and all leverage he had in bullying his long time friend and leader into behaving would be shot to hell.

He had a certain hard ass image to uphold, even if the complicated feelings he held for Oikawa sometimes made it difficult to hold the line when necessary, so to speak. Iwaizumi didn’t even want to imagine the barrage of shit he’d get from Matsukawa and Hanamaki if they were to catch wind of his weakness towards Oikawa’s antics.

The thought alone was enough to make Iwaizumi shudder and a grimace to overtake his expression which Oikawa thankfully seemed to mistake for rage if the way he was warily eying him was any indicator.

“But Iwa-chan, these delicate fingers of mine would suffer holding all of that weight,” Oikawa protested, wiggling said digits airily at Iwaizumi like the arrogant asshole he truly was.

If both of his hands weren’t occupied, he’d have swatted Oikawa for being an antagonistic little shit but instead had to settle for leveraging one leg up and firmly slamming his foot against his friend’s firm behind. Iwaizumi watched with no small measure of satisfaction as Oikawa was sent careening forward with an offended squawk and the cocky gait the man had fallen into was successfully broken, a dark footprint now visible on Oikawa’s previously pristine slacks.

“Delicate my ass,” Iwaizumi snorted derisively as Oikawa barely regained his balance but not after having to flail around like an idiot. “Oi, call the damn elevator then if your _delicate_ hands can’t be bothered to carry some of the load. It’s the fifth floor we’re going to.”

“I know that,” Oikawa snapped, shooting Iwaizumi a glare that would probably have intimidated most people but had no effect whatsoever on the shorter, stocky framed alpha that came to a standstill beside Oikawa in the elevator lobby.

“You know, Iwa-chan, in the old days I could’ve had you executed for such disrespect,” Oikawa sniffed, clearly still annoyed and if Iwaizumi had to guess, embarrassed by his less than graceful movements just moments ago.

“Well it’s a good thing we’re not living in the past then, isn’t it, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi shot his friend a flat, unimpressed look, not believing the threat in the slightest. “Besides, someone needs to keep your ass from making stupid decisions. You’d be doomed before you knew it without me around to keep you in line, idiot.”

Iwaizumi missed the way Oikawa’s entire form stilled a little with his words, too focused on watching the numbers of the elevator they were waiting for slowly tick down as it made it’s way back to the ground floor.

Oikawa had always been a handful, Iwaizumi mused, mind automatically tuning out Oikawa’s grumbling as they climbed into the elevator, the button for the fifth floor slammed down theatrically a couple times by Oikawa before the metal doors closed soon after.

It wasn’t really something Iwaizumi was bothered by, Oikawa’s difficult nature, even though he certainly seethed about it fairly frequently.

Ever since Oikawa’s father had committed suicide, burning down their clan’s hereditary estate in the process and leaving Seijoh in turmoil, it had been like an emotional switch had been flipped within his friend. Any perceived weakness Oikawa had felt he carried that was a detriment to their clan’s survival had been brutally clamped down on and shoved deep within himself, away from prying eyes. Iwaizumi saw it for the front it was, and it was only their longstanding friendship that had allowed him to notice the changes that had taken root in Oikawa over time.

Oikawa simply couldn’t let others see how insecure and uncertain he felt, so he overcompensated behind a far too bubbly attitude and baiting, sometimes sharp comments meant to set others back on their heels.

 _There’s nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal_ , Iwaizumi’s father had once said and as he’d grown older, Iwaizumi had come to understand the sentiment all too well.

Oikawa was always primed for a fight, because he’d come to expect nothing less. Becoming the head of a large clan like Seijoh at the age of just six had placed an undue amount of pressure on him. Though Seijoh was no longer the preeminent powerhouse it had once been by that point, due in large part to Oikawa’s own father, Iwaizumi knew there were a great many people in their clan that expected Oikawa would help revitalize the very heart of what had once made them great.

Nekomata’s intervention and invitation to have Seijoh taken under his purview until Oikawa had reached maturity and mated had been a saving grace of sorts. They hadn’t been the only clan to offer safe harbor, of course. Nor had all offers been levied with the same pure intention Nekomata had continually demonstrated since welcoming them into his home. Luckily Yahaba’s father who had been the elder Oikawa’s advisor long before he had been Nekomata’s, had realized it to be the safest of choices for their clan, and had quickly agreed to the proposal on behalf of the younger Oikawa.

The chance to obtain the unmated omega heir to one of the only two remaining clans renowned for their fighting ability had been too much of an opportunity to pass up to not compete over. Shiratorizawa, Nohebi, Fukurodani—they’d all tried their luck, and still were.

To possess the heir of Seijoh meant to possess the untapped potential of his clan, if a mating match could be struck to ensnare Oikawa permanently. Now that he had been of age for some years now, the jewel of Seijoh, as Oikawa Tooru was also known, was ripe for the taking.

Iwaizumi tried not to think about it too much, particularly the way Oikawa kept rebuffing and stringing along mating talks because it never served Iwaizumi, or his heart, well in the end. He understood Oikawa was playing the game, was trying to leverage his availability to gain favors from the other clans and give Seijoh a foot up in negotiations, as was smart.

That didn’t change the fact that every conversation he’d sat in on as Oikawa’s second never failed to cut him to the bone, especially when phrases like ‘bonding’ or ‘courting’ were introduced into the vein of discussion.

Iwaizumi had long ago made peace with the fact he wanted what he had no real right to.

He was under no illusions that he was an ideal choice as a potential mate for Oikawa. His family branch in Seijoh was a minor one and did not have the same caliber of social standing like Shiratorizawa’s main family, which had already inquired after Oikawa’s hand, or any of the economic wealth that Nekoma or Nohebi boasted.

He was rich in only the loyalty he could offer Oikawa, the desire to push Oikawa forward and up with his own two hands, to protect and cherish him.

All he could truly give Oikawa was his love and his life.

These things, did not a strong mating proposal, make. Especially not for someone of Oikawa’s social standing.

Sometimes he’d thought that maybe Oikawa returned his feelings, from the fleeting touches and looks he’d occasionally caught Oikawa giving him when they were alone in their adjoining apartments at Nekomata’s estate, or on missions like the one they were currently handling.

The glances were always gone just as quickly as Iwaizumi noticed them, though—replaced by far too cheery smiles and sarcastic words that Iwaizumi couldn’t be blamed for believing he’d imagined it all.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s voice broke the silence they’d fallen into and Iwaizumi found his gaze sliding left to where Oikawa was walking beside him as they exited the elevator and made their way quickly to the target’s apartment, just down the hall. “If you keep scowling like that, your face is going to stay stuck in that position, you know?”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi reflexively retorted, rolling his eyes at Oikawa’s overly dramatic words, “I wouldn’t be scowling if someone had helped carry this shit, it‘s your own fault. Oi, get started on the lock and be useful, would you?”

Deflection, Iwaizumi was the king of it.

Oikawa muttered a snippy little comment under his breath but huffed and bent down in front of the door they’d stopped beside, quickly pulling out the small lock picking set he kept on hand for missions when actual keys weren’t accessible for their use. Iwaizumi provided cover as best as he could and casually kept an eye out for any incoming tenants that might interrupt them.

“Any day now, Oikawa.”

“Iwa-chan, I will have you know this is an artform that can’t be rushed. Genius takes time, you brute,” Oikawa drawled and Iwaizumi, at the teasing lit Oikawa’s voice had taken on, couldn’t help but glance down to watch Oikawa as he worked. He found his gaze inexplicably drawn to Oikawa’s hands, the man’s long fingers graceful and fluid in their minute manipulation of the thin pieces of metal he was using to try and turn the tumbler on the apartment door’s lock. It always surprised him, how attuned Oikawa was to the feel and sound of his tools, like they were an extension of his own body.

Iwaizumi briefly found himself wondering if Oikawa’s touch would be just as careful and purposeful in other situations and immediately had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep his mind from drifting places it didn’t need to go at the moment.

Thankfully, Oikawa resolved the issue for him by doing his assigned job.

The unmistakable ‘click’ sounded from the door a second later and Oikawa was quick to grab the handle and push the door open, pulling his tools from the lock’s face just as fast to pocket them once more.

“See?” Oikawa was grinning now, looking utterly pleased with himself as he gestured Iwaizumi inside with a grandiose flourish of his arms. “After you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile, even as he rolled his eyes at how dramatic Oikawa was being at having completed such a simple task as he entered into the apartment first.

“Don’t forget the foot coverings,” he reminded Oikawa, quickly setting their tool boxes down in the privacy of their target’s foyer to rifle through them for the thin slip on shoe covers which he gave a pair of to Oikawa before slipping on his own.

It’d be easier to keep their shoes on if they had to leave the apartment quickly, and this way they would leave minimal evidence, too.

Iwaizumi, just to be safe, opened the door and quickly stuck a sign to it that apologized for any disturbance caused while they saw to their ‘maintenance’ work. Hopefully, no one would come snooping with it up and it’d also act as an explanation for their target as to why two scents that weren’t his had suddenly come to be in the man’s apartment when the man returned home. People always wanted to accept the easiest explanation for things, and Iwaizumi knew it was a solid cover.

“You worry too much, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa hummed, already making his way into the apartment to begin studying it’s expanse with a critical eye. “We’ll be done here before Yasufumi is even done schmoozing this Takeda fellow.”

“You’re way too flippant. Would it hurt you to address Nekomata-san a little more politely?” Iwaizumi grunted, bending over to grab two sets of gloves and the smaller of the toolboxes to bring it deeper into the apartment. “Here,” he tossed the gloves to Oikawa without any preamble and tugged on his own, hazel eyes locking on to a slightly dated monitor and upright hard drive.

“I’m plenty respectful,” Oikawa sniffed, tugging on the gloves, “he and I are equals, technically. It’s not _that_ improper for me to call him by his given name.”

“You’re twenty-five years too young to have that attitude,” Iwaizumi immediately retorted and started moving towards the desk the computer sat at while Oikawa drifted deeper into the apartment.

“You take paper and physical items and I’ll start with the computer.”

“Iwa-chan, no fair! You always get the computer!”

“That’s because _I’m_ trained in forensic data retrieval and between the two of us, I’m the better hacker, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa harrumphed rather loudly at that, but as Iwaizumi expected, there was no real argument that Oikawa could level to contest his statement. Between the two of them, Iwaizumi was much more technologically savvy, and that was putting it mildly.

Settling into the chair, Iwaizumi booted up the PC and got to work, half of his attention simultaneously following Oikawa’s progression through the apartment with an absent kind of awareness that only came from having been attached to Oikawa’s side practically from birth.

Iwaizumi was both dismayed and pleased to find that Takeda’s computer was not password protected, even though it made his work a bit easier in the end. He wasted no time in plugging in the empty external hard drive he’d brought with him to begin the process of replicating the contents of Takeda’s own hard drive onto it. It was better to take it all with them and be able to go through each individual file on his own time rather than waste precious minutes sifting through potentially useless information when that focus could be better utilized elsewhere.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi stood up from the desk once he’d initiated the hard drive transfer. “We should be able to get everything from his computer. Just have to wait, now.”

Oikawa hummed noncommittally in understanding and Iwaizumi, surprised by the lack of retort, went to investigate what Oikawa was up to.

He found the other man flipping through a stack of manila files in the small dining space off of the kitchen and quickly made his way over.

“Anything good? Where’d you get these?” Iwaizumi stepped up beside Oikawa and grabbed some of the files up from the table Oikawa had stacked them on to help with the processing.

Iwaizumi’s eyes quickly flicked over the pieces of paperwork he came across as he sifted through the pile, more and more disappointed with every document he looked over.

Teaching syllabi…copies of blank worksheets…

“From his bedroom. It’s all teaching materials so far, ugh,” Oikawa voiced the very thing Iwaizumi had just been thinking.

“Iwa-chan, this guy is seriously boring. He had one sex toy in his bedroom, _one_. He has a collection of house plants that could rival a botanical garden, a hoard of books and he _knits_. I’m talking crocheting and _everything_. The guy does not have a social life at all, it’s sad.”

Iwaizumi choked on his own spit at the sudden knowledge Oikawa had apparently perused through their target’s sex toy collection during his initial search of the place and shot Oikawa an incredulous glare, frozen in place.

“Oh my God! What is _wrong_ with you?” Iwaizumi hissed. “Why would you even be looking for something like that, Shittykawa? Please tell me you didn’t touch it!”

Oikawa rolled his eyes and gave Iwaizumi an unimpressed look at the chastisement, nose wrinkling. “Don’t be such a prude, Iwa-chan. We have to be thorough, don’t we?”

“Hah?! I’m not a—”

Oikawa’s expression morphed suddenly, a smirk taking root on the man’s face before Iwaizumi could even properly answer, and Iwaizumi quickly decided he did not like how devious Oikawa’s gaze had become.

“Don’t tell me Iwa-chan is still a virgin?” Oikawa cooed, leaning towards Iwaizumi enough that the shorter man had to immediately lean back to maintain an appropriate amount of distance between the both of them. “Is that why you’re so flustered?”

Oikawa’s gaze was surprisingly sharp despite how lidded his eyes were and it made Iwaizumi’s stomach flip in on itself in a strange way he didn’t know what to make of.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi gritted out in warning, not appreciating the direction their conversation was moving in, or the other’s teasing for a great many reasons, particularly because it hit a little too close to home.

Why did he have to push on this, of all things?

They’d been friends for so long that Iwaizumi had always assumed Oikawa had been aware of Iwaizumi’s lack of romantic entanglements, especially when Iwaizumi spent almost the whole of his waking hours with Oikawa. It didn’t exactly leave a lot of spare time to pursue other interests, physical or otherwise. Iwaizumi had never attempted to find a partner to weather his ruts with, either. He’d had no real appetite for finding someone when all he thought about was Oikawa in those brief, vulnerable periods of time when his instincts overrode everything else.

Honestly, if Oikawa were to ever find out how fervently Iwaizumi wanted him, he was pretty sure their friendship would be ruined and that wasn’t something Iwaizumi ever wanted to be faced with. It was too important to him.

“Oh, you _are_ ,” Oikawa’s grin turned sharp and Iwaizumi almost thought a little pleased, too, but he was pretty sure he was imagining that. “See? I told you, that constant scowl of yours isn’t doing you any favors. How is Iwa-chan going to find a mate looking so mean all the time?” Oikawa drawled, slowly leaning forward into the space Iwaizumi had just tried to put between them, clearly not having picked up on his earlier attempt to maintain a proper amount of distance from his friend.

Iwaizumi reconsidered, a second later, that maybe Oikawa actually _had_ picked up on his efforts to maintain what was considered a polite boundary considering their differing genders and simply didn’t care for it, especially when Oikawa stepped forward and pointedly placed one leg between his own, bracketing Iwaizumi back against the dining table to block him from retreating further.

Oikawa, now closer than ever, tilted his head upward boldly, gaze locking firmly with Iwaizumi’s in a wordless challenge.

The dawning realization of what Oikawa was doing shot through him like a lightening bolt meeting a grounding rod and he stiffened his back, refusing to retreat while also questioning just why exactly Oikawa was attempting such a thing.

Oikawa’s aim was unmistakable, though the reason for it still unclear and Iwaizumi hysterically wondered if Oikawa knew about his feelings and was trying to play a twisted game of emotional chicken with him. But no, Oikawa wouldn’t do that to him, would he?

Whatever his motivations, Oikawa was challenging Iwaizumi. Baiting him into reacting, for reasons Iwaizumi couldn’t quite determine.

The instincts he usually fought to bury deep inside of him compelled Iwaizumi to straighten up to his full height at the challenge and as he did so, he met Oikawa’s gaze head on, the alpha in him wanting nothing more but to make Oikawa back down right then.

The heat of Oikawa’s body was almost overwhelming, pressed so close to his own. Iwaizumi could smell only the soft, partially repressed scent of gardenia blossoms that bled off of Oikawa’s skin, and a sensation he had long ago come to equate with desire pulsed low in his navel at how much he yearned to have Oikawa acknowledge the strength of his presence, to recognize him as his alpha in that moment.

They didn’t have time for this, his mind was screaming. They were supposed to be looking for any and all information they could get their hands on that would be of use in determining if Takeda and the artist were figures they needed to be concerned about.

Iwaizumi was not supposed to be considering if Oikawa’s skin would taste as sweet as it smelled.

“ _Enough_ ,” he growled out, slowly leaning forward towards the other man in a way that would pressure Oikawa to either submit, or withdraw completely.

Their eyes held one second, then another and Iwaizumi watched, breathless, as the pupils of Oikawa’s eyes began to tellingly dilate. He was kept from admiring the slow transformation of Oikawa’s already captivating gaze when the other man swallowed and slid his brown eyes away from Iwaizumi’s in order to tilt his head back, bearing his neck ever so slightly in surrender.

The display of submission made Iwaizumi’s mouth go dry and the unspoken invitation of the gesture was too strong for him to ignore his instincts. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he still slowly leaned forward, his nose barely ghosting over the column of Oikawa’s neck as he inhaled the other’s scent, savoring the sudden wave of it that rose up to envelop him.

Oikawa’s form quivered, ever so slightly he noticed, when he pressed his cheek to Oikawa’s gland at the base of his neck, scenting him subtly to remind him of his submission and Iwaizumi was struck by how right it felt, even this barest exchange of scent. He had to fist his hands and press them firmly to the table behind him to keep himself for reaching out for Oikawa like he wanted to right then, consumed with the need to fully scent Oikawa, but he didn’t.

It was already bad enough he’d allowed his instincts this one victory.

The apartment was silent around them save for their slightly hitched, uneven breaths and Iwaizumi bit down on his lower lip to fight back against the strange spell Oikawa had cast on him. He almost opened his mouth to tell Oikawa to back up, to move away so he could get his head back on straight when Oikawa decided to press up against him a little more.

His mind promptly blanked on him, his face heating up in a combination of mortification and excitement and Iwaizumi froze, fingers now gripping hard at the table behind him for support as he tried to ground himself.

Of course, just as he was beginning to regain his mental bearings once again—or at least trying to—Oikawa went and did something he wasn’t at all prepared for.

Hesitantly, almost tentatively, Oikawa turned his head to press his own cheek to Iwaizumi’s neck in return before leaning in so that their glands touched and slid against each other, completing the scenting to an extent he hadn’t needed to observe.

Oikawa was submitting to Iwaizumi like he was _his_ alpha, Iwaizumi’s mind dumbly noted, stunned.

It was a split second later that the true implication of the action hit him, taking the last of the breath from his lungs.

Oikawa was scent marking _him_ like he was Oikawa’s mate.

Oh. _Oh._

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathlessly murmured into the silence of the apartment, his voice low and soft— vulnerable, almost.

Something close to what he imagined the sensation of touching live electricity would feel like danced across his skin at the sound. Iwaizumi’s lips parted to respond though no words actually followed, his response stuck in his throat and he stared, dumbfounded down at Oikawa’s flushed face.

What was he supposed to say—hell— _do_ , after something like that? Did Oikawa even mean it, could he possibly—

The doorbell rang loud through the apartment suddenly and the pair simultaneously froze, their eyes reflecting shock at the unanticipated interruption. Something like irritation quickly flickered over Oikawa’s face and just like that, the charged, weighted moment was succinctly broken.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi cursed, jarred into movement even though at that moment the last thing he wanted to do was to step away from Oikawa. They needed to talk about what had just happened, but they had a job to do and a limited period in which to accomplish it.

The timing really was shit, Iwaizumi mused as he gently grasped Oikawa and maneuvered his slender body backwards, allowing Iwaizumi to slide away from the table and head to the front door. He glanced briefly through the peep hole of the door and exhaled at the sight of a young woman, casually dressed and nervous looking standing just outside.

A tenant, then.

Steeling himself and putting on as pleasant and professional a face that he could considering what had just happened, Iwaizumi opened the door with a smile that he’d somehow managed to force to his mouth.

It came out more like a grimace, really.

“Can I help you, ma’m?” He politely inquired, noting with a bit of bewilderment the way the woman jumped the moment he opened the door. Iwaizumi tried not to, but his eyebrows still rose a little in surprise at how twitchy the woman was.

The woman’s eyes quickly flickered to the patch on his shirt before moving to his face with more surety than he’d expected. She was blond and petite, her shoulder length hair done up in a side ponytail that made her look perhaps a bit younger than she actually was. Iwaizumi didn’t fully know what to make of her, to be honest.

“Y-yes, uhm—well, I saw the sign—” She pointed to the door where Iwaizumi’s fake flyer sat, her shoulders hunching upwards toward her ears as if to make herself appear even more compact than she already was. “A-and I just wanted to make sure everything was o-okay with Takeda-san’s apartment. Uhm…”

Iwaizumi felt almost sorry for the poor girl, who clearly had a pretty severe case of social anxiety and it wasn’t hard to want to try and alleviate her worries, even though it was necessary for them to remain under the radar, too.

“We just handled a leak on the floor above this one so we’re making sure we’ve properly addressed the issue,” Iwaizumi smoothly fibbed. “It’s just to be safe, but we wanted to make sure no water damage occurred to this apartment since it was right below the affected unit upstairs. Is your apartment on this floor, too? If you’ve seen anything resembling a ceiling leak we’d be happy to come take a look.”

It was a calculated risk, offering up their non-existent services, but it made their presence seem more believable in instances like the one they’d found themselves in and Iwaizumi knew the woman was probably too skittish to actually accept.

“Oh no! I uh, I appreciate it but I’m farther down the hall, so it’s probably okay…” The woman gestured to the right of them and Iwaizumi nodded as if accepting the blond woman’s reasoning.

“Well… if you change your mind…?” Iwaizumi trailed off, waiting for the woman to give her name.

“Yachi,” the woman squeaked out, bowing to Iwaizumi stiff and quick. “Hitoka Yachi.”

“Yachi-san,” Iwaizumi nodded, forcing another smile to his mouth. “If you change your mind please come on by. We’ll be here a little while longer before we vacate for the tenant to return.”

“A-ah yes! T-thank you for looking after Takeda-san’s home.” Yachi politely parted with before turning and quickly making her way down the hall in the direction her apartment lay.

Iwaizumi watched her go before turning and re-entering the apartment, completely missing the suspicious, assessing glance the girl shot over her shoulder back at Takeda’s door when it loudly clicked shut.

Iwaizumi almost expected Oikawa to be waiting for him just beyond the entranceway, ready to pounce but instead found the man flipping through the files they’d previously been scrutinizing as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred between them just moments before.

The cool expression Oikawa wore immediately sent alarms off in his head and he paused short of the kitchen, suddenly aware of the very concerning fact he didn’t really know what version of Oikawa he was returning to.

Well, fuck.

“Oikawa?” He tentatively started with, eyes flickering over the other man for any hint of what his friend-turned-love-interest was feeling or even thinking right then. Iwaizumi had the distinct feeling he’d fucked up somehow, and he warily studied Oikawa for any hint of how to approach the walking, talking landmine before him.

“Hm?” Oikawa hummed, pointedly refusing to look up at Iwaizumi. “Don’t just stand there, Iwa-chan. We’re on a tight schedule. Start making yourself useful now that you’re done chatting up the building’s tenants.”

Oikawa’s voice was tight and cool, Iwaizumi noted with no small amount of dismay and he floundered in the passageway between the living room and the kitchen, not really liking how out of sorts he felt at the thought Oikawa might actually be mad with him. Especially when he wasn’t sure _why_.

He’d had Oikawa mad with him before, and it’d never bothered him, really because Oikawa even at the best of times could be an outright brat. Usually if he was mad with Iwaizumi, it wasn’t truly warranted because more often than not Oikawa was mad at Iwaizumi for trying to keep him from doing stupid shit that would only harm Oikawa in the end.

This was different though, he could already tell.

Maybe Oikawa regretted what had happened? Iwaizumi’s stomach sank immediately at the thought and for a moment, he considered going along with Oikawa’s suggestion. No, fuck that. Not when he knew how it’d felt to have Oikawa very nearly in his arms, pressed so close and leaning into him. Iwaizumi realized he didn’t want to let this go, not when this was the first and maybe only opportunity he’d have to try and express to Oikawa how he’d felt for so long.

“Oikawa, I really think we should talk about—”

“Iwaizumi-san,” Oikawa snapped, and it stopped Iwaizumi cold, the formal usage of his name, not the ‘Iwa-chan’ he was so used to hearing.

Iwaizumi couldn’t even remember when it’d started, the nickname, just that Oikawa had started calling him by it one day and had never quit since.

That was, until now.

“Iwaizumi-san,” Oikawa repeated, tone firm and cold— a warning.

The sound of such a formal address stung as much as it pissed him off. He opened his mouth, about to tell Oikawa off, and maybe turn the tables back on him when the computer Iwaizumi had left to it’s work released a loud chime, signaling the completion of the hard drive transfer he’d earlier initiated.

Oikawa gave him a pointed stare and glanced at the computer before looking away and Iwaizumi chafed at the obvious dismissal.

“We’re talking about this later, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi lowly warned, before turning and stalking to the computer, his left eye twitching hard as he fought to control his anger.

When Oikawa said nothing in return, Iwaizumi’s stomach sank and his lips pulled down in a fierce scowl as he started the process of safely ejecting the back-up hard drive he’d connected to Takeda’s computer tower.

 _‘This isn’t going to be easy, is it?’_ Iwaizumi inwardly fumed, fingers punching harder than necessary down on the innocent keyboard laid out before him in the now stiff silence of the apartment.

Sometimes, Iwaizumi really did wish he had a different job.

xXx

Kuroo found himself staring down at his phone with a pout, fingers tapping incessantly at his desk as he read over the text exchange he’d shared with Daichi the week before. He knew it had to be at least the hundredth time he’d done so, and nothing had changed, but it helped to boost his mood to see Daichi’s name and re-read their texts. It was the next best thing to actually seeing Daichi, physically and he didn’t know when that was next going to happen, unfortunately.

**Thursday**

**April 8th**

**12:34 pm**

**Hey, how’re things Sa’amura?**

**[From: Daichi]**

**1:55 pm**

**Good! This is Kuroo-san, I’m guessing?**

**1:57 pm**

**I dunno. Would it be a good thing or a bad thing if it was?**

**[From: Daichi]**

**2:05 pm**

**I know it’s you, Kuroo-san.**

**You’re the only one that can’t get my name right.**

**2:06 pm**

**It’s too fun seeing you get all worked up over it.**

**It’s pretty cute, you know?**

**I’m gonna run with it for a bit.**

**[From: Daichi]**

**2:23 pm**

**Kuroo-san, is there a reason you’re texting me?**

**2:24 pm**

**Yes, actually!**

**You said you’d like to meet this week so I wanted to see if you’re up for getting together tomorrow, maybe?**

**[From: Daichi]**

**2:28 pm**

**Sure.**

**It’d have to be the evening if you wanted to, though.**

**Is that okay?**

**2:30 pm**

**That’s fineeee Sawamura!**

**I got some work to wrap up before I can take the weekend off so it’ll be a longer day anyway.**

**[From: Daichi]**

**2:41 pm**

**You’re a savage, ugh.**

**3:05 pm**

**Oho?**

**I thought you said I was a heathen?**

**Hmmm? So which is it?**

**[From: Daichi]**

**3:06 pm**

**That was before I got a better sense of your terrible personality.**

**Heathen is too kind, you’re definitely a savage with that terrible hairstyle you cart around.**

**3:15 pm**

**Damnnnn, Sawamura.**

**You should’ve warned me so I could pick up some ice before you gave me that nasty burn.**

**S’okay though, I kinda like this vicious-wrapped-in-cute side of you.**

**[From: Daichi]**

**3:17 pm**

**I’ll remember to bring some instant cold packs tomorrow.**

**You might change your mind about liking it after you see what I can really dish out.**

**What time did you want to meet?**

**3:18 pm**

**Oho! That’s some big talk right there.**

**I think 7 would work for me, if that’s not too late?**

**[From: Daichi]**

**3:22 pm**

**Seven sounds great.**

**I’ll keep the gallery open so you can just come on in, okay?**

**3:25 pm**

**Alright, see you then Sawamura!**

**Friday**

**April 9th**

**6:45 pm**

**Sawamura I really hate to do this, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight.**

**I’m so, so sorry!**

**Shit hit the fan here and it’s one of those all hands on deck situations.**

**I don’t think I’m getting out of here at all tonight.**

**I think my entire weekend is shot, too.**

**[From: Daichi]**

**6:48 pm**

**Kuroo-san, it’s okay, really. It’s no big deal.**

**We’ll just have to reschedule, yeah?**

**6:49 pm**

**I’m sorry, I really am!**

**I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow!**

**[From: Daichi]**

**7:53 pm**

**Don’t worry about it.**

**Just focus on your work, okay?**

**I’m not going anywhere.**

**7:54 pm**

**You’re the best Sawamura!!**

**I really am sorry, I was looking forward to it.**

Daichi had returned to his normal schedule last week following the secession of his heat, but Kuroo’s own damnable work responsibilities had conspired to keep them from actually meeting and he was more than a little bitter over it, honestly.

He picked up his phone and fired off a quick text, hoping it hadn’t been too long since his last check in for Sawamura to be completely done with him.

**Thursday**

**April 15th**

**6:20 pm**

**I hope you’re having a good week so far, Sawamura.**

**Just wanted to say hi and I promise I haven’t forgotten we’re supposed to meet up eventually.**

Kuroo wished he could see Sawamura, hell, he wished he could leave his godforsaken office for more than just the sake of sleep, and he didn’t even get to do that, some days. His mind went a little hazy as he mulled over how nice it’d be to hold an actual conversation that didn’t consist of discussing experimental materials and methods or ANCOVA statistical results and their bearing on conclusion statements.

His initial suspicions about the last weekend being shot for him had ended up being true, as he’d predicted. 

Both Saturday and Sunday the week before had seen him late at the office as he and his team scrambled to meet a suddenly shifted deadline that had been abruptly requested by the marketing division of Nekomata Pharmaceuticals. Kuroo had been told to have their studies for a new product they’d been working on, submitted as soon as possible to Japan’s drug regulatory agency, the Pharmaceutical and Drug Safety Bureau, for review. 

Clinical trials took time, which the idiots in marketing conveniently seemed to forget, the little money hungry rats that they were. Timelines sometimes made years in advance were suddenly expected to be shifted around and to say Kuroo was pissed was an understatement.

Having their original deadline suddenly pushed forward in an attempt to beat a competitor to market over a new, novel scent blocker similar to their own experimental product was sheer insanity in Kuroo’s opinion. Especially considering the fact that they weren’t even sure how far along in the development process their competitor’s product actually was.

Kuroo hated being involved in corporate espionage for this very reason, because it brought nothing but headaches. Not only were they attempting high level corporate takeovers, they were also fighting for the very real bragging rights and profits associated with novel drug development. Money and influence to protect the clan’s interests didn’t grow on trees, Kuroo knew and understood that, but sometimes he really did detest the political motivations behind it all.

For all Kuroo knew, they’d been roped into a completely unnecessary goose chase, which somehow made the demand leveled at him and his department to see this through, that much more frustrating. He knew they couldn’t afford to chance it though, not with the amount of money that had so far been poured into the development process on their company’s end.

Which left him in his current, unenviable position.

They had trials that were supposed to wrap up by the completion of next week they hadn’t even been able to compile data from yet, not to mention some of the other studies they’d already completed were still being statistically analyzed and unanticipated kinks regarding experimental failures, worked out. After that, summary reports would need to be written up for each experiment, all of which he would be reviewing.

Kuroo was simultaneously trying to get a jump start on their new product application to the Pharmaceutical and Drug Safety Bureau so they’d be first in line for the review and approval process, but there was only so much he could do when large chunks of the components they needed for the application were still half finished at best. He knew it’d have to be watertight, too for the notoriously finicky regulatory agency to even consider moving forward on their application.

Never more until this last week had he regretted the fact his grandfather had recently bumped him up to the directorship position of the Research and Development division. Kuroo really, truly missed being a simple laboratory director, he mused as he folded over his paper strewn desk with a loud, tired groan.

He needed a drink. A stiff one, preferably.

His phone rang on the tabletop beside him and he didn’t move from his folded state, nor did he raise his head, allowing his hand to grasp fruitlessly for a moment over the wooden surface of his desk until his fingers curled around the vibrating device.

“Kuroo Tetsurou speaking,” he mumbled into the phone.

“Wow, you sound rough, Kuroo-san,” Daichi’s voice echoed through the phone, tinny and so blessedly unexpected that it shocked him still for a moment.

“Daichi!” He yelped when his mind finally caught up to the present moment, and Kuroo shot up so fast that he disturbed the balance of his chair in such a way that it sent him careening backward with it.

“Oh, ow.” Kuroo breathed out as he collided less than gracefully and quite loudly with the floor a second later, legs skewed akimbo and his dignity thoroughly destroyed.

In moments like this, he was glad for the privacy of his personal office.

If Yaku had been able to see that, Kuroo would’ve never been able to live it down. He could already imagine Yaku’s cackling laughter and the sharp, embarrassing barbs he’d undoubtedly lob at him for his lack of grace for the next week, if not longer.

“Kuroo-san, are you okay?” Daichi’s concern was audible, apparently having been able to discern that Kuroo had gotten into some sort of trouble even if he hadn’t been able to see the true extent of Kuroo’s rather clumsy lapse.

“I just tipped over my chair like an idiot, Sa’amura. I’m fine, really. Well my pride isn’t, but I’ll get over it with after I have a good cry,” Kuroo joked at his own expense even as he grimaced at how less than smooth he was coming across.

Why had he just said that? God, he was a complete and utter mess when sleep deprived. If he’d even had a chance with Sawamura…well, he was pretty sure it was gone _now_ after that terrible quip.

Light laughter echoed across the cellular connection they shared, striking Kuroo speechless in surprise, both because Daichi really did have a wonderful laugh and also because Kuroo was decidedly confused over how Daichi hadn’t already come up with some excuse to hang up on him.

Kuroo had been pretty sure Daichi would never speak with him again after practically leaving him high and dry the week before and, well, Kuroo knew his gut reaction to joke about things when he was nervous or worried usually did him no favors. He’d ruined more than a few dates during his time in college with his penchant for joking, but somehow, Daichi was still there, still laughing at him on the other end of the phone.

“You didn’t think that was stupid?” Kuroo found himself asking before he could think better of it.

“Oh no,” Daichi answered, the patience in his voice practically palpable. “I did, but you’re so honest that it’s more endearing than ridiculous, Kuroo-san.”

Daichi thought he was _endearing_.

Kuroo was pretty sure he had to look like a complete idiot, sprawled out and staring dreamily up at the ceiling from his position on the floor like he was right then as he swooned over Daichi’s words.

He really should get up before anyone, especially Yaku, walked into his office looking for him.

With his pride dented but still intact, thanks in part to Daichi’s reassurance, Kuroo hefted himself up and then his chair before plonking back down onto it’s cushy surface.

“Well thanks, Sawamura. Glad I haven’t made a complete fool of myself just yet.”

“I think you have, actually but like I said it’s more endearing than anything else.” Daichi retorted, just the faintest tinges of laughter clear in his voice as he fought back his mirth.

Kuroo pouted at that before his lips slackened into a tiny smile. “Hm, so is your night is going alright so far?”

“Well enough,” Daichi agreed, and Kuroo thought he heard the other man shuffling some sort of paperwork on his end of the phone, “the gallery had a bit of business, but it’s nothing like the weekends. Those are becoming our busy days, it seems like.”

“I’m glad you’re getting so much foot traffic, Sawamura. If you’d like, I can always post flyers for the gallery in some of our breakrooms.” Kuroo offered, already considering the logistics of such a task. “Who knows, it might bring a little more attention to your place. Our building is big enough someone’s bound to go.”

“That’s…you don’t need to do that, Kuroo-san. Though, out of curiosity, how big exactly are we talking about?”

“Uhhh,” Kuroo hemmed and hawed for a moment as he tried to roughly recall how many floors their building was. “I think we have about sixty floors or something like that? We’re about as big as the Toranomon Hills Mori Tower over in Minato where you live.”

“Eh, _Sixty_? Where do you work, Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo shifted in his seat, a little flustered by Daichi’s question and he rubbed at the back of his decidedly sore, tight neck as he tried to think of how to not come across bragging or a showboat.

Maybe just keep the details to a minimum unless asked? Yeah, that seemed smart. It went against every instinct he had which was to tell Daichi all about his work—which he loved—but he didn’t want to come across too intense, either. 

“Ah, I kinda work for Nekomata? Uh, I mean, Nekomata Pharmaceuticals.”

“Holy— _Nekomata_?” Daichi started to blurt out the curse before remembering to correct himself at the last minute. Of all the places Kuroo could’ve named, that would’ve been the last company Daichi would’ve ever expected Kuroo to work at. Daichi was from Miyagi, yes, but not even he was so clueless that he wasn’t aware of Nekomata’s success and importance in both the pharmaceutical world and other, less known spheres.

Was Kuroo possibly…? But no, that couldn’t be. Even if he was a observer of the old ways, that was hardly definitive evidence of Kuroo’s background beyond the fact he’d been raised by a progressive family. He couldn’t recall Takeda mentioning the name of Kuroo’s grandfather the night of the gallery opening, either he belatedly realized after a moment of consideration. He’d said he was well off though, so maybe…

Daichi decided right then that he would be a bit more observant around Kuroo, going forward, until he could get a better read on the man.

“And wait, how can you _kind of_ work for someone?” Daichi asked, barking out a low laugh when he fully registered Kuroo’s choice of words. “Your brain really is fried right now, isn’t it?”

Kuroo groaned at the question and slumped forward again in exhaustion, secretly relieved that Daichi hadn’t made a bigger deal out of where he worked.

“Yeah,” Kuroo admitted, huffing out a sigh, “I’m really ready to be done with this project. It’s been _hell_ so far, Sa’amura. Pure, unmitigated hell. I’m sorry I’ve been so out of it. Since this started I’ve actually had to sleep here a couple of nights, so not even my family has gotten to see me that much. I’m sorry our plans have had to stay on hold, too. ”

There was a beat of silence before Daichi cleared his throat on his end of the line that Kuroo thought came off a little flustered, though it might’ve been wishful thinking on his part.

“Well, we could change that right now,” Daichi quietly suggested. “When was the last time you ate, Kuroo-san?”

“Uhh…” Kuroo squinted at the watch on his left wrist, dubiously. “Like, eleven-ish, I think? Why Sawamura, are you asking me to dinner?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Kuroo blinked, and stilled, dumbfounded by the direct answer.

“Oh.”

Daichi snorted at the squeaky tone Kuroo’s voice had taken on before dissolving into outright laughter at the embarrassed groan Kuroo released a second later when the man realized how less than smooth his response had been.

“Is that a no?” Daichi teased.

“No! I mean, yes, I’d like to have dinner with you!” Kuroo sputtered before he released a low whine of protest.

“Sa’amura don’t pick on me, please. My brain can’t handle it right now.”

Daichi couldn’t help but laugh, though he collected himself quickly in favor of putting Kuroo out of his misery, not really enjoying the prospect of kicking him while he was down.

“Alright, just this once I’ll give you a pass. Can you head out now?”

Kuroo considered the question seriously as he eyed the paperwork on his desk. Could he? All he was doing was waiting for material to be submitted to him, but there was no estimate beyond sometime either tonight or tomorrow morning that he could expect to have the pending documents in his hands. He was at a standstill on their application, too but what if…

“Kuroo-san, one night away really might do you well. The work can wait a few hours while you eat and get some actual rest,” Daichi chimed in, as if he’d been able to read Kuroo’s mind. 

The part of him that was used to the grind balked a little at the idea, but Kuroo knew Daichi was right. At the rate he was going he’d burn himself out and that wouldn’t do him, or his team, any good in the end.

“You make a convincing argument, Sawamura,” Kuroo sighed, but he was smiling as he stood up from his seat and began gathering up a few items he’d maybe read over before bed. He slid the documents into his waiting briefcase before shrugging on his coat, nerves jittery with excitement. “I’m packing up right now. Where would you like to meet?”

“Do you remember where I live?”

Kuroo froze at the question, his mind blanking on him for a brief moment at the realization Daichi was actually inviting him to his place before he just as quickly remembered the other man was still expecting a response.

“Ah, no,” Kuroo admitted. “I mean, I remember it’s in Minato, but not your exact address. Is that…I mean, is that really okay with you?”

“You’re tired,” Daichi pointed out, not sounding at all ruffled by the idea. “I don’t think us grabbing dinner at a local izakaya near the gallery is going to be the best option when you’re probably running on fumes, Kuroo-san. It’ll be quiet at my place and I make some mean karaage. I’m thinking of making a vegetable nimono dish, too, so what do you say? That sound okay?”

“You’re some kind of angel, Sawamura,” Kuro groaned, struck by how thoughtful Daichi was of his comfort. He’d have been happy to meet Daichi somewhere public, but honestly the idea of a bit of peace and quiet really was attractive and he really wouldn’t mind having a bit of private time with the other man, either since their first meeting hadn’t been exactly smooth sailing.

Daichi released a muffled laugh, clearly amused. “I wouldn’t go that far, Kuroo-san. I’ll text you my address, then.”

“Still— thanks, Sawamura. D’you need me to pick anything up on my way over?”

“Nope, just bring your exhausted carcass to my door and I’ll take it from there.”

Kuroo, even though that was definitely a jab at him, found himself smiling. “I thought we had a detente on teasing considering my delicate disposition at the moment, Sa’amura?”

“Ah, my mistake,” Daichi gamely retorted, and Kuroo could practically hear the smile Daichi was probably wearing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo retorted, flicking off his desk lamp. “I’ll see you soon, Sa’amura.”

“Drive safe,” Daichi answered before promptly hanging up.

Sure enough, Daichi’s address vibrated it’s way onto the screen of his phone a moment later and Kuroo pocketed the device before striding for his door, swinging it open with more pep than he actually possessed. He paused at the office just outside his own where Yaku was currently hunched over at his desk and lightly knocked his knuckles against the open doorway to grab the attention of his assistant director.

Yaku’s sharp eyes quickly flickered up to him and Kuroo waved a wordless greeting. Yaku looked just as tired as him, Kuroo noted and he wondered how much it would take to get the other man to take the rest of the night off, too. Yaku’s short, cropped hair was mussed and sticking up every which way, a sign the shorter man had been nervously threading his hands through his locks as he tended to do when stressed.

“I’m taking off for the night Yaku. I need to sleep somewhere that isn’t my office floor for a change. You might do better if you head home, too,” Kuroo gave Yaku a pointed look. “The next wave of documents probably won’t be here until the morning, anyway.”

Yaku’s face scrunched up with a scowl as if Kuroo had just suggested something offensive.

“You know when you say shit like that is when crap suddenly starts bombarding my inbox, right? Don’t jinx it, man.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes at Yaku’s response. “Close your email then and _go home_ , Yaku. Even if it fills up, it can wait until tomorrow morning.”

Yaku looked fit to argue and right as he was opening his mouth to probably just do that, Kuroo cut him off.

“I can make it an order,” Kuro lightly reminded Yaku, earning him an even more fierce scowl than the first.

“Your grandfather created a goddamn menace, promoting you,” Yaku grumbled, but Kuroo watched, pleased as the diminutive man took stock of the contents of his desk much the same way Kuroo had done himself a few minutes before. “Fine, you win. Did you give Kyoutani-san enough warning to come and pick you up?”

“Yeah,” he blithely lied, “I’m gonna head down before he bites my head off right now, actually.”

In reality he wasn’t going to call Kyoutani, but Yaku didn’t need to know that. Kuroo was hardly worried that he’d come to harm in the time he had a random taxi driver ferry him over to Daichi’s. The way he looked at it, what Kyoutani and his grandfather didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt either of them.

Yaku nodded in commiseration of Kyoutani’s frightening demeanor and waved Kuroo on.

“Don’t let me stop you, Kuro. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Kuroo nodded and took the out Yaku was unknowingly giving him and silently prayed his luck would hold. “Thanks, Yaku. Have a good night.”

Not waiting for Yaku to follow since it wouldn’t help his plan stay intact, especially if Yaku wanted a ride back to the estate, Kuroo pulled out his phone and looked up a local taxi company before calling in a car to pick him up. By the time he’d made it to the ground floor, a car was already idling outside and Kuroo reflexively checked the name of the taxi cab company on the door to make sure it was actually his.

“Hi,” he greeted his driver, quickly climbing into the backseat.

“Hey,” his driver, an older, weathered looking man responded. “Where to?”

“Ah, Hotazaka Street in Minato, please,” Kuroo settled into his seat and barely registered the grunt the man made before Kuroo shot upright immediately as he realized he was forgetting one very important thing. “Wait!” He cried, and the driver immediately hit the breaks before turning to give him an alarmed look.

“What? What is it?” The man asked, voice reverberating with concern.

“A florist,” Kuroo blurted out. “Do you know one nearby?”

His driver gave him a look that clearly communicated he thought Kuroo was crazy before he grudgingly nodded. “You want to go there, first?”

“Please,” Kuroo cleared his throat, giving the man an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m uh…kinda working off of three hours of sleep.”

His driver grunted his understanding and Kuroo decided to leave him to it since the man didn’t exactly seem to be much of a conversationalist. They drove for about ten minutes before his driver pulled over and pointed to the business they’d pulled up to.

“You want me to wait?”

“If you could, please,” Kuroo requested, already climbing out of the car. “I’ll be quick.”

Kuroo rushed into the florist’s shop and after chatting with the lady at the counter regarding what he wanted his bouquet to convey, she quickly threw together a pretty cluster of white gardenia and pale purple gladiolus flowers punctuated with sprigs of lavender colored heather. Kuroo wanted to tell Daichi, ‘ _I think you’re lovely and I’m sorry for last week. I really do admire you_ ,’ but he knew that might come across a little strong if he were to voice such a thing aloud, considering this was only the second time they were seeing one another and the first time of their own choosing. Kuroo figured saying that with flowers would be better received, and he did feel bad about having had to turn Daichi down the week before. He hoped the gesture would be appreciated, either way.

He exited the shop shortly, now armed with bright foliage meant to appease his dinner date and climbed back into the taxi which immediately took off for Minato. Kuroo allowed himself to zone out a little, and really only came out of the haze of his thoughts when he started to recognize the neighborhood they’d just entered, registering it immediately as Daichi’s.

He was quick to pass off enough cash to cover his toll when Kuroo spotted Daichi’s building and asked his driver to pull over. With a quick thank you, Kuroo slid out of the car for the final time that night and made his way up the secluded walkway he’d first walked with Daichi almost two weeks before. 

He knew his way to Daichi’s apartment as if he’d been there many times before, passing through the lobby quickly and to the waiting elevators. He was quick to select the third floor where he remembered Daichi’s apartment lay on and he just as quickly exited the elevator as he’d entered it when it came to a halt three stories up.

When Daichi’s door finally came into view, Kuroo took a deep breath just steps from the other man’s apartment and slowly came to a stop before it, struck by how uncertain he suddenly felt. Would the flowers be too much? Was he being too eager?

“Don’t be stupid,” he grumbled to himself and quickly raised the hand currently holding his briefcase to rap his knuckles against Daichi’s door before he could let his nerves fully kick in and make him overthink things. Daichi had invited him of his own will, which meant he wanted to see Kuroo just as much as he wanted to see Daichi.

Well, maybe.

Hopefully.

The door swung open a few moments later and Kuroo quickly found himself staring into Daichi’s warm, chocolate hued gaze.

“Hey there, Sa’amura,” he greeted with a playful, flirtatious grin that completely belied the way his heart had suddenly sped up in his chest at the sight of Daichi finally standing before him again.

Before he could forget, he slowly held out the flowers he’d gotten the other man as if they were a sacred offering and watched delightedly as Daichi’s eyes lit up with surprise.

“Didja miss me?”

Daichi’s fingers curled around the bouquet carefully as he took it from Kuroo and immediately his brown eyes flickered back up to Kuroo’s as he gingerly held the flowers to his chest. The small smile that had upturned Daichi’s mouth made the taller man’s heart speed up markedly and Kuroo realized he was holding his breath as he waited for Daichi to say something, anything that would let him know he hadn’t messed up by making such a gesture.

“Yeah, I did,” Daichi lightly responded as if there was no weight to his words, though Kuroo felt there could be no response more powerful than hearing Daichi admit such a thing and it left him feeling giddy with relief.

“Thank you for these,” Daichi followed up, smile still holding strong as he stepped aside and gestured Kuroo to enter. “They’re lovely. Come on, the food’s almost ready so I hope you brought your appetite.”

Kuroo didn’t need any extra urging and he mentally steeled himself as he followed Daichi into his apartment, the gravity of the moment, the gesture of trust he was being given, not lost on him in the slightest.

“Sawamura,” Kuroo laughed delightedly at Daichi’s cheeky tongue, “you better get ready, because I am going to _kill_ this karaage of yours.”


	6. To Be Selfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kuroo and Daichi share dinner, come to some realizations and Daichi makes a decision where Kuroo is concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> Almost didn't get this out today, so sorry for the delay. Life has picked up pace on me a bit, so I couldn't fit in as much time for working on this as I normally would. In happier news...My husband and I just closed on a house!! I feel like I've leveled up in adulting, it's seriously surreal. 
> 
> You know what else is surreal? Five-hundred plus hits on this story!! Thank you all for being so supportive and reading. I really do appreciate you all! 
> 
> Enjoy the KuroDai fluff, there's lots of it this time around! 
> 
> Music Inspiration: 
> 
> Middle Of The Night- Monsta X  
> In Your Eyes- The Weeknd  
> Holy- Justin Bieber (ft. Chance The Rapper)

“Excuse the intrusion,” Kuroo politely drawled and wasted no time in slipping off his shoes in Daichi’s genkan, as was polite. He couldn’t help but notice how strong Daichi’s pleasant scent was now that he was in the other man’s apartment. Kuroo had not really been able to pin down Daichi’s scent before—but now—surrounded by it, he thought the floral overtones were something close to jasmine, light and sultry in it’s subtleness.

“It smells great in here,” Kuroo admitted when he belated picked up on the smells of whatever Daichi had begun to prepare in the kitchen, a little amused over his own choice of words considering the train of thought he’d just had.

Daichi chuckled, already having carefully exited the entryway himself and promptly reached down to slide a pair of guest slippers across the raised floor towards Kuroo to slip into once he stepped up into the actual living area.

“Thanks. It probably doesn’t help you haven’t eaten for a while. Feel free to hang your coat up and make yourself at home.”

Kuroo could feel his shoulders immediately relax as he shrugged out of his suit coat at Daichi’s direction. Having the constricting material removed felt like something close to freedom and he was quick to carefully hang his discarded garment up on the coat rack Daichi had gestured to that was mounted on one of the entranceway walls.

“Thanks for having me, Sawamura,” Kuroo grinned at his host as he finally stepped up and into the waiting slippers Daichi had laid out for him.

Daichi waved off the thanks, literally and started into the apartment, clearly expecting Kuroo to follow.

“I bought too much chicken so you’re helping me, really,” Daichi reassured, “can I get you anything to drink? I think I have some beer, or I can get you tea?”

Kuroo hummed, tempted by the offering of alcohol but he knew in his sleep deprived state it’d do more to make him pass out than anything else.

“Some tea’d be great, Sa’amura, thanks.”

Daichi shot him a smile over his shoulder, the expression edging into a grin. “No alcohol, huh? Low tolerance?”

“Not really,” Kuroo shuffled after Daichi and started to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, all the while watching Daichi retrieve and fill a decorative glass vase, content to stay out of the kitchen considering the tight layout of the area until Daichi told him otherwise.

“When I’m already loopy from lack of sleep it pretty much knocks me out,” Kuroo explained, before he jokingly added, “don’t really think that’d make me a great guest. D’you need any help with putting together dinner?”

Daichi shook his head and carefully started trimming the flowers Kuroo had brought him before depositing them into the now prepped vase. He was taking his time, Kuroo noticed, every movement careful and mindful of the delicate state of the bouquet.

“I just need to fry the chicken, which won’t take long. Besides, you just admitted you’re sleep deprived. I really don’t think you and hot oil would mix right now.”

Kuroo mocked a low, offended gasp even as he grinned, showing just how insulted he truly was by Daichi’s words.

“Your lack of faith wounds me, Sa’amura.”

“Better it be that than hot oil,” Daichi retorted, breathing out a low laugh and plucked up the newly refreshed flowers to carry them into the living room to place them on a clean, low set kotatsu that sat in the middle of the living area of his apartment.

It was large by Tokyo standards, from what Kuroo had so far seen of it. Daichi had a modest living room and an actual dining area that allowed for a tiny table, which wasn’t generally the norm with space limited and tightly regulated in most Tokyo apartment buildings.

It was warm, homey and Kuroo felt completely at ease in Daichi’s space.

His host clearly took great pains to keep it clean, and it wasn’t overly cluttered by knick knacks or superfluous furniture which made it feel a bit more open and large than it actually was.

He watched Daichi step back and pause for just a second longer than necessary to admire the flowers he’d set down, and Kuroo felt a primal sort of pride swell within him when he realized Daichi honestly seemed to like the bouquet he’d brought him. Kuroo relished in that small victory, perhaps more than was appropriate considering they’d only just met and he shouldn’t feel so strongly for Daichi, so quickly.

Kuroo was beginning to realize he wanted whatever this was that he’d initiated with Daichi, to really, truly work out. It was a first for Kuroo who had always pursued others for his own gratification, for the brief thrill that always came from the chase and nothing more.

Daichi was sharp and driven, self-made and confident in his talents. The crucible that was Tokyo hadn’t fully melted him into submission and there were very few cities more difficult to get by in than the one they called home. It was impossible not to admire Daichi when the deck had been so unfairly stacked against him through no fault of his own, but the man hadn’t let it keep him from following his dream of creating art and sharing it with the world.

Kuroo, to put it plainly, found Daichi’s driven focus and inherent grit undeniably attractive.

Kuroo wanted to learn more about Daichi, to peel back the complicated layers that made up the man in front of him. It was a new desire he’d never quite had before with any of the previous partners he’d been involved with and Kuroo suspected he knew what it meant.

There was nothing remotely romantic about the previous dalliances he’d had in college and beyond because he’d always known the reality was that he would never truly have a choice in choosing his eventual partner. 

Falling in love had never made sense with any of his previous entanglements because of it, especially when he knew he’d eventually have to walk away.

Bonding with a partner who was not a member of the Oniwaban caste was considered unacceptable, with only a few exceptions having been allowed over the last four hundred years since the establishment of the clans. It was an old rule, one that had been implemented by the first Shogun to ensure the loyalty of his intelligence agents and that the code of secrecy regarding their existence was never broken.

Frankly, Kuroo found the rule to be inflexible and in need of a long overdue revision to better fit the era they lived in, but he was young, and he didn’t hold the political weight that was necessary to push for such a thing. It was true he was the current heir of Nekoma, but Kuroo was still a relatively unknown variable to the other clans since his investiture two years prior. His grandfather was still the head of their household and even though he had begun to pull Kuroo into certain duties and meetings relating to clan business, Kuroo did not yet hold sway in any of the decisions being made.

It was strange to think that he’d been a simple minor branch member not that long ago. The name Kuroo Tetsurou had not been known, or recognized as holding any sort of importance until he’d been pulled out of bed by Yahaba one cold January morning before the sun had even risen and spirited quickly to his grandfather’s private quarters under armed escort across the estate grounds.

He’d never wished his mother and father were still alive more than he had that day.

Kuroo would never forget how red his grandfather’s eyes had been, the only sign he had been mourning the loss of his two remaining children. At the time, Kuroo had found it strange how even in the midst of his pain, his grandfather had refused to seem anything but strong.

Kuroo understood now that his grandfather had no choice but to be so, but back then he had found it unpalatable. He’d not understood what his grandfather was going through, not entirely. He’d been consumed by his own grief over the sudden loss of his uncles who had been surrogate fathers to him, but now—years later, he could only marvel at the quiet grace his grandfather had possessed despite his obvious suffering.

That morning, amongst quiet conversation and formal paperwork, Kuroo Tetsurou had ceased to exist and from his ashes, Nekomata Tetsurou was born.

When his grandfather had tapped him as his heir, the decision had been made to amend the Nekomata family registry and have Tetsurou moved from the minor Kuroo branch family that his mother, his grandfather’s second child, had married into prior to her death.

It hadn’t been an overly complicated matter to make Kuroo part of the main family considering Kuroo was the sole grandchild of the current clan head, and none of the clan elders had contested the decision to change Tetsurou’s family surname since he possessed true Nekomata blood.

Kuroo wished he could tell Daichi who he truly was, it felt too much like lying, omitting so much about himself but he understood that he couldn’t. At least, not until he found some way of convincing his grandfather to allow him to pursue Daichi like he wanted.

“I really am sorry we couldn’t meet up last week, and for the radio silence,” Kuroo blurted out suddenly, his tall, lanky body leaning back against the doorframe of the kitchen so he could better face Daichi.

The brown haired omega looked up from the flowers he’d been admiring to shoot Kuroo a surprised look before his expression smoothed into amused consideration, completely silent and still for a moment that Kuroo briefly wondered if he’d offended Daichi somehow.

Kuroo watched, wordlessly as Daichi slowly moved around the kotatsu and back towards the doorway where he was lingering. His host stopped short of the kitchen entrance, right in front of him and Kuroo felt like Daichi was seeing more of him than he really would have preferred right then with the way Daichi stared calmly back up at him.

“I told you I understood,” Daichi lightly remarked and suddenly, without warning, punched Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?!” Kuroo yelped, completely caught off guard by the assault on his person. Shit, but Daichi was _strong_. He really had to wonder about himself when the realization sent a thrill through him rather than just mere shock.

_‘I am such a disaster, good God.’_

“You’re being stupid,” Daichi bluntly quipped, apparently not about to hold back in the slightest. “Stop getting in your head about things. When I say it’s fine, it’s fine, Kuroo-san.”

Daichi’s mouth quirked up and Kuroo swallowed, the small twist of lips making his heart hammer away fast like it was trying to force it’s way out of his chest.

“Oh.” Kuroo hated how his voice had actually elevated itself a couple decibels and the laugh Daichi subsequently released at his response caused him to immediately flush in embarrassment.

“Sawamuraaaa,” he groaned, “no teasing, remember?”

“Sorry,” Daichi coughed, successfully bringing his laughter under control.

The man looked far too bemused, Kuroo sullenly noted and was exasperated to find he couldn’t hate Daichi for it with how cute the other man looked in his currently satisfied state.

“Y’know, you can call me Kuroo,” he tried to sound casual about the offer once he had a moment to collect himself in the aftermath of Daichi’s teasing. It’d been something he’d noticed, how rigidly Daichi continued to address him even though Kuroo had made a point of calling Daichi solely by his surname, without any polite address. 

Kuroo couldn’t break down all of Daichi’s walls immediately, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try and bridge the distance between them in other ways.

Daichi looked surprised at Kuroo’s words before his face smoothed into an almost mocking smile. “Not one for formalities?”

“Honestly? Nah.” Kuroo laughed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck which was still damnably tight from the way he’d been hunched over his desk the last few days.

“I’ve never really been prone to formality, that’s more my gramp’s scene. I do it when I have to, but among friends, it kinda seems like overkill.”

Daichi’s smile widened a little as he watched Kuroo’s nose cutely crinkle in distaste as he spoke, clearly put out by the thought of having to play nice by their society’s standards. He didn’t miss the way Kuroo kept rubbing at his neck, either and he suspected it had something to do with the long hours Kuroo had been working. Kuroo had probably spent his entire day hunched over a desk, which really didn’t sound appealing to Daichi in the slightest.

There were many reasons Daichi had decided to pursue his career in art, and the fear of being chained to a cubicle was most definitely one of them.

The reminder of work made Daichi turn and head back into the kitchen since he had a few remaining tasks to handle before their dinner would be ready.

“I get it,” Daichi admitted and he gestured to the empty kitchen table if Kuroo wanted to seat himself while he placed a kettle of water on the stove to make his guest the tea he’d promised him earlier.

“My family’s the same. Especially my parents. There’s a reason I didn’t stay in Miyagi and that was definitely one of them,” Daichi continued, noting the soft scraping sound of one of the dining table chairs being pulled out somewhere behind him, his current focus turned towards retrieving the box of various teas he kept in his pantry at the opposite end of the kitchen.

It didn’t take long for him to retrieve it and he turned around to find Kuroo’s long, lanky body seated at the tiny table. Daichi noticed Kuroo’s movements were measured, careful as he shifted in place. It was oddly endearing to see how much Kuroo was trying to seem casual about the fact he clearly felt cramped in the small space but wasn’t saying anything out of an attempt to be polite.

“Pick your poison,” he set the box of teas down before Kuroo and watched with obvious amusement as the taller male eagerly leaned forward to peruse his options, his amber gaze lighting up after a brief moment of consideration.

“Miyagi, huh? You have good taste in tea, Sawamura,” Kuroo grinned, picking out a yellow metal canister of loose leaf oolong tea to hold it up, playfully shaking it back and forth to signal he’d found his preferred choice. “For a country boy, that is.” 

Daichi glowered at Kuroo, only half serious in his irritation and aggressively swiped up the canister so he could quickly set about preparing a pot of tea for the both of them.

“I was going to offer to move the dining table away from the wall so you could stretch out your freakishly long legs a bit more— but after that, I don’t think I will.”

“Excuse me, _freakishly long_?” Kuroo sputtered behind him at the insult to his person, clearly not having expected Daichi to say something so rude before a cackling laugh Daichi was quickly coming to associate with Kuroo echoed loudly in his tiny kitchen. Despite it’s loud, jarring edge, Daichi found the sound had somehow coaxed an amused smile to his mouth and he was grateful he was facing away since it prevented Kuroo from catching sight of it.

The last thing Daichi wanted to do was give Kuroo the satisfaction of thinking he was actually funny. 

“You heard me,” Daichi shot back, moving on to heating up the waiting oil now that he was finally ready to submerge the already breaded karaage chicken he’d prepped ahead of time. “I don’t know how you actually find suits to fit you properly. You’ve got to be one of the tallest people I’ve ever met.”

“Just lucky I guess,” Kuroo snickered before he coughed a few times and forced himself to get his amusement under control with some modicum of success. “But okay, hold on. Back to Miyagi, Sawamura. You left because your parents are sticklers for manners? That seems a little much, which makes me think that can’t be the only thing to make you cut out for Tokyo like the world was ending.”

“It’s part of the reason,” Daichi admitted, quickly flicking off the tea kettle the moment it started to whistle in warning and carried it over to the waiting tea pot. He was silent as he poured the hot water over the carefully measured tea leaves, stuck in his own thoughts and conflicted over how much to tell Kuroo.

“I think… I felt constrained in Miyagi. I’m the oldest of my family so there’s always been this unspoken expectation I’m supposed to step up and fill in for my parents from time to time. I have two younger siblings, so growing up, while my parents were at work or helping out the rest of our family, I was kind of like a third parent for them a lot of the time. I didn’t mind that so much, but I didn’t like the pressure to be the perfect example for them when I was still a kid myself.” Daichi explained.

“I guess it felt like things were constantly being planned for me, and I resented the lack of choice I kept being faced with. I thought maybe they’d get over it, but it only got worse when I found out I was an omega and my parents became really protective. They started making plans for me to take a position at the family business once I’d graduated high school out of this misguided sense of needing to protect me. After I’d become an omega, they thought I’d want to avoid college with how hard I was taking my presentation at the time, I think.”

Daichi placed the teapot and two cups down on a small serving tray he’d pulled out for ease of transporting their drinks and ferried the steeping tea the short distance to the nearby kitchen table.

Kuroo was staring at him quietly, expression serious and amber eyes focused, any amusement from earlier completely gone. Daichi was surprised at how the man’s intent bearing didn’t put him ill at ease like it once might have. There was nothing remotely judgmental in Kuroo’s gaze, just calm contemplation and Daichi relaxed a little when Kuroo cocked a tiny, barely there smile of reassurance to go on.

Daichi took the hint for what it was, and continued, picking up the fully steeped pot of tea to carefully pour Kuroo a cup, as was polite considering his status as a guest. “My parents always figured I’d go into work with them, I guess—our family runs a group of farms—but the older I got, the more I realized how much I truly loved painting. It was one of my few escapes from everyday life after my presentation as an omega, you know?”

Daichi didn’t receive an answer beyond a small nod from Kuroo, but he hadn’t really expected one, to be honest.

“When my parents started talking about what I’d do following high school I just—I couldn’t help but feel like I was trapped. I knew if I went ahead and did what they wanted, I’d never be able to really pursue my painting,” Daichi explained, and he frowned a little with the memory. He’d felt so isolated already, learning about his secondary gender, but being faced with the very real possibility he might have to give up painting had terrified him even more.

It’d felt like losing another part of himself all over again.

“Takeda-san, my current manager, used to teach at my high school before moving out here and he’s the one who encouraged me to continue onto college, to study art and keep at it. If he hadn’t been there to support and push me, I don’t know what would’ve happened. So when I told you that night when you brought me home that I wouldn’t be where I am today without him— I really did mean it.”

Kuroo didn’t look exactly troubled, but Daichi wasn’t sure what to make of the tiny frown the taller man wore and Daichi hesitated, suddenly feeling foolish for having disclosed so much.

“Maybe it was selfish and immature of me to leave the way I did, but I…”

Not really certain of what he could say to break the sudden silence that had taken the room, Daichi fell quiet and turned back to the stove where the oil was now hot enough to add the chicken, which he started to transfer over. He’d forgotten how disarming Kuroo was to talk to, he mused glumly as he slid the first few pieces into the hot oil, unable to keep away the frown that quickly settled on his lips. He’d said too much, probably and Daichi felt a familiar wave of self-loathing hit him hard.

Yeah, he was real mature, running from his problems by coming to Tokyo and practically abandoning his family in the process. It didn’t matter that Ukai ojii-sama had given his blessing, not completely.

Daichi knew he’d disappointed his parents, and he’d put the twins in a precarious position of having to deal with the aftermath of his departure on their own. He got enough texts from them both to know his mother was not dealing very well with his absence and they were being smothered even more so as a result.

 _‘Some big brother you are,’_ he inwardly berated himself.

Daichi supposed it was probably better for him to find out now, rather than later, that Kuroo wasn’t invested enough to even try and cope with Daichi’s baggage. He hadn’t even gotten into the _really_ complicated aspects of his family, either.

If he hadn’t just scared off Kuroo, that surely would have.

Maybe it was better that it hadn’t worked out, he mused, immediately pushing down the stubborn part of himself that pointed out he didn’t really believe that when he felt nothing but glum at the prospect of never seeing Kuroo again.

“I think it’s the exact opposite of immature, actually.”

When Kuroo’s voice unexpectedly cut through the silence of the room, Daichi very nearly dropped the last piece of chicken he’d been in the process of lowering into the hot oil and turned to stare at Kuroo with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“What?” Daichi dumbly retorted, completely devoid of tact in his shock.

“I don’t think you’re immature for leaving,” Kuroo repeated, eyebrows raised in clear amusement at Daichi’s surprise, though his expression remained otherwise serious.

“It’s never a bad thing to put your wellbeing first, Sa’amura,” he continued, not giving Daichi another chance to protest like Kuroo was pretty sure would be the case, otherwise.

“Irrespective of what your parents envisioned for you, it’s still your life, not theirs. You’re not a bad son for wanting to pursue something that makes you happy, some people never get that opportunity, y’know? I think it shows a lot of maturity on your part that you recognized you needed time to find yourself.”

“It’s…it’s more than that though,” Daichi argued, even as he wanted so very much to believe Kuroo. “I left the twins behind, when they needed me and—”

“Sawamura,” Kuroo calmly but firmly interrupted. Something in the man’s voice that wasn’t quite demanding, but close to it made Daichi quiet down, his lips pursing in stubbornness as he turned to quickly fish the first batch of chicken out before it could overcook.

“You’re their brother, not their parent,” he reminded Daichi, staring at the shorter man’s turned back while he worked at the stove. “I get wanting to be a good brother and all, but, c’mon. You’re making the rest of us poor siblings look like crap in comparison, save us a little face.”

Kuroo shook his head, expression shifting to fond amusement when Daichi paused, clearly thinking about his words.

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, Sawamura,” he gently added, now that he knew he had Daichi’s attention and the man wasn’t outright dismissing what he had to say.

“How can you take care of those you love if you don’t take care of yourself, first?”

Daichi was quiet as he started frying the next batch of chicken, but Kuroo didn’t push, content to nurse his tea and watch Daichi while he worked.

“You sound like an old man, doling out advice like that,” Daichi finally spoke up after a few minutes of contemplative silence.

Kuroo sputtered for a moment at being called old before a short bark of laughter followed and he gingerly set his tea cup down.

“Excuse you, I’m in peak condition. I’m not _old_.”

“Well then, how old are you?” Daichi immediately snarked back.

Kuroo’s eyes narrowed as he studied Daichi’s turned back and briefly considered if he might regret answering that question. He was fairly certain Daichi was about his age, but…

“I’m thirty,” Kuroo grudgingly admitted, bracing for the worst.

Daichi’s head immediately spun around to peer back at his guest and he gave Kuroo a surprised look.

“Oh. That’s—I, uhm, I thought you were younger than that.”

Kuroo allowed a bit of the satisfaction he felt at Daichi’s remark to show on his face and he relaxed back into his chair with a smirk. “See? You’re proving my point, Sawamura. I make it a point to eat good and keep up with my fitness, y’know. I might be thirty, but I’m not a slouch, not by a long shot.”

Daichi, predictably, rolled his eyes at Kuroo’s played up efforts to appear confident.

“Fair is fair, so how old are you, Sa’amura?”

At the question, Daichi sighed, which predictably only increased Kuroo’s curiosity and amusement.

“Twenty-six,” Daichi grudgingly admitted as he plated the last batch of chicken and carted it over to the partially set table where Kuroo was staring up at him in badly disguised amazement. He almost expected a joke about him being younger than Kuroo, but nothing came of his suspicions.

“You know, for being as young as you are, you’re doing pretty good, Sawamura.”

Instead, Kuroo complimented him.

The comment made Daichi briefly stall in pulling out the already prepared pot of vegetable nimono he’d tucked away in the oven to keep warm before he regained control over his body and continued his task. He was quick to move back to the table and carefully set the hot clay pot down on a waiting trivet for ease of serving access.

“What do you mean?” Daichi tried to sound nonchalant and non-plussed by the other man’s words, but it wasn’t hard to discern he was a little flustered, at least to Kuroo’s experienced eyes.

“You’ve left everything you’ve known to move to one of the biggest cities in the world and are already on your way to becoming a pretty well known artist. All at just twenty-six,” Kuroo calmly ticked off, summarizing Daichi’s accomplishments with a smile that was tinged with what looked almost like pride, if Daichi was willing to guess.

“Not all artists become popular in their lifetime, right? You should be proud of how well you’re doing, Sa’amura.”

Daichi was embarrassed by how quickly Kuroo’s words made his cheeks radiate with heat and he immediately turned on his heel to busy himself with serving up some rice for the both of them since it would allow him to hide how badly he was blushing. “It’s—I still have a long way to go. I’m not that popular,” he stuttered out, heart pattering fast and hard in his chest.

Kuroo was _trying_ to kill him, speaking like that. Daichi wasn’t ready for Kuroo’s praise, or anyone’s, really. He’d always been uncomfortable with compliments, more inclined to keep his head down and focus on his work which would always be more important than the empty platitudes that were directed his way by well wishers.

He understood Kuroo was likely to compliment him, especially if something was to come of their spending time together, but Daichi still found himself ill-equipped to deal with it. More so when it came to something he cared very deeply about.

It actually meant a lot to Daichi, that Kuroo felt Daichi was doing good and that he believed Daichi to be reaching some modicum of success. He felt like he had someone else in his corner other than Takeda for a change, when Kuroo said such things and Daichi could admit he’d like it if it became a frequent or maybe even permanent occurrence.

“Well,” Kuroo spoke up, interrupting Daichi’s train of thought, “we’ll get you there.” 

Daichi’s stomach flipped like it was participating in an acrobatic show at the implications embedded in that sentence and he squeezed his eyes tight shut for a moment before he huffed out a sigh and forced himself to get his act together, turning back to the table with two bowls of rice filled to the brim.

“You sound like my cousin,” Daichi tiredly admitted.

“Ah, so he’s also brilliant and always correct, then?”

Daichi’s lips twitched into a near facsimile of a smile at Kuroo’s flirtatious teasing.

“More like Suga’s an obnoxious and pushy asshole, but sure— if that makes you feel better, we’ll run with that.”

“Pushy? Excuse me, it’s called being _supportive_ , Sa’amura.”

Daichi sat down after he’d deposited their rice onto the tabletop and neither Kuroo or Daichi moved, caught up in a strange, wordless détente. When nothing happened, Daichi finally quirked an eyebrow at Kuroo, expression inquiring. He’d almost expected his guest to jump on the chicken immediately with how intently he’d been eying it since Daichi first set it out.

“Help yourself before it gets cold, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo did, in fact, do just that and gladly helped himself once Daichi had given his blessing.

He wasn’t short on his praise for Daichi’s cooking skills either. Kuroo hadn’t gotten to enjoy a truly homecooked meal like this in a long time, and he savored it, going back for seconds and then thirds. Dinners were either a more formal or disjointed affair at the estate, due in part to the schedules he and his grandfather kept. Sometimes he was able to eat with Tooru and Iwaizumi, but Kuroo had begun to feel a bit of an intruder in those meals and so they’d become a little less frequent as a result.

To have a quiet meal like the one he was sharing with Daichi was special and Kuroo savored every second of it. He found himself quickly relaxing as they sat and ate, chatting about inconsequential things.

Kuroo explained in greater depth what he did for a living at Daichi’s behest. Despite his exhaustion, he’d been happy to talk about his work and disclosed that he’d gotten a doctorate in biochemistry and following the completion of his graduate studies, had immediately gone to work for Nekomata Pharmaceuticals. He didn’t mention it was his family business in the course of their discussion, since he didn’t want it to seem as if he’d gotten in through nepotism alone. Kuroo knew he’d earned his position in the company, but the insecure part of himself he tried not to acknowledge too often worried that Daichi might not feel the same way.

Daichi had seemed impressed by Kuroo’s success and accomplishments, particularly when he explained he’d first started out as a lowly laboratory director responsible for overseeing the clinical trials that were ongoing in their endocrinology pipeline, before he had eventually promoted up into the directorship position of Research and Development for the whole of Nekoma following the continued success of his initial projects. There had been other reasons behind it, too, but Kuroo couldn’t really disclose that to Daichi, at least not yet.

“Now I know why you knew so much about my suppressor medication when we first met,” Daichi mused as he scrubbed and rinsed off the dishes they’d collected up from the table, a remnant of their meal from just a short while before.

Kuroo obediently took the newly cleaned dish Daichi handed him and promptly toweled it down, having insisted he help Daichi in cleaning up despite the fact he was a guest.

“When you told me what you were taking I freaked out a little,” Kuroo admitted, expression amused, but a little exasperated, too. “You really don’t know how many reported side effects those endocrine suppressors have attached to them. I get why you took it, but I really do think it’s safer for you to avoid them, Sawamura.”

Daichi nodded, the gesture oddly subdued.

Kuroo eyed him askance as he slowly dried the next plate Daichi handed him before he leaned over and gently nudged Daichi to break the other man from what he suspected to be brooding resignation over being unable to hide his omega status.

“We’re working on a new scent suppressor you know. It inhibits the production of short-chain free fatty acids— the compounds responsible for the production of our scents, rather than broadly targeting the endocrine system like most recent suppressor medications have aimed for. It’s what I’ve been stuck at work with, this last week. It seems pretty promising, even if right now I’d like to never read another clinical study we’ve produced on it.”

Daichi glanced up at him, surprise flickering over his face before his eyes softened, only to narrow teasingly at Kuroo. “Aren’t you breaking some sort of non-disclosure clause, telling me all of that?”

“That depends,” Kuroo teasingly retorted, grinning down at Daichi, “should I be worried you going to tattle on me? You struck me as the trustworthy type, Sawamura. Was I wrong?”

Daichi’s body was warm beside him, radiating a pleasant sort of heat and Kuroo, tired and contentedly full as he was, wondered if Daichi was the type of person to enjoy cuddling. He’d probably be perfect to curl around, considering their height difference and his mind went a bit hazy at the utterly indulgent thought.

“It’d serve you right, airing research secrets like you would laundry,” Daichi snarked back quietly, but there was no real heat to his words.

“But—no, you’re not wrong.” Daichi softly amended, before Kuroo could respond to the first volley of words that had been lobbed at him. Daichi said nothing after that, simply staring up at Kuroo, lost in some thread of thought Kuroo couldn’t possibly hope to guess at.

Kuroo noticed Daichi’s eyes flickered down slightly, and Kuroo’s heart sped up when he realized the exact trajectory Daichi’s gaze had briefly taken before Daichi’s brown gaze raised upwards again like he’d never glanced away in the first place.

 _‘He wants to kiss me,’_ Kuroo realized with no small amount of exhilaration. 

The implication settled warm and heavy in his navel and he exhaled a soft breath through his nose as he held Daichi’s gaze, conflicted. He wanted to kiss Daichi, too, but even more than that, he wanted to do things correctly, to make it unerringly clear that he was serious and respected Daichi as a potential partner.

Daichi was a far cry from the drunken, consensual flings he’d had when he’d been a little younger, and while Kuroo was most definitely attracted to Daichi, he wanted there to be no misunderstandings regarding his intentions.

That meant asking Daichi to accept his courtship, before anything else.

He could easily imagine having Daichi permanently in his life, filling the empty crevices of Kuroo’s world with his warm company in a way he hadn’t experienced since his parents had died. Kuroo wanted more meals together like the one they’d just shared, he wanted to know how Daichi preferred his coffee in the mornings, if he even drank coffee—and all the other tiny, insignificant facets that made up the other man standing beside him.

He wanted to learn if Daichi really wouldn’t mind cuddling, and how he’d feel wrapped in his arms as they dozed off in bed together, warm and content.

Kuroo selfishly wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss him, too and if he could, he’d have taken Daichi up on his desire to do just that.

“That’s good,” Kuroo quietly responded, lips curling into a tiny smile, “because I hate it when I’m wrong.”

The pause in conversation seemed to have given Daichi enough time to collect himself and the man had already started back up washing the remaining dishes, his ears suspiciously pink from Kuroo’s playful response.

Deciding to be good and give Daichi a break, Kuroo instead focused on drying the dishes Daichi handed him, instead. Together the two of them fell back into a companionable silence and slowly completed the remainder of the dishes.

Kuroo dreaded it a little, when they’d placed the last of the dried dishes into their respective cupboards because it meant his time with Daichi was probably close to an end. Bracing himself to do the polite thing and bow out before he overstayed his welcome, Kuro turned to face Daichi.

“Well I—”

“Would you—”

The both of them froze in surprise when they each started to talk over one another at the same time and Kuroo released a bark of laughter after the shock wore off.

“You first, Sa’amura, sorry.”

Daichi shook his head, an amused twist to his lips and he waved off the apology as he shifted absently on his feet in an almost nervous manner. “Ah, I was going to ask if you wanted to spend the night? It’s almost eleven, so…”

Kuroo blinked and glanced down at his watch in disbelief to find it was just as late as Daichi had noted and he breathed out a low curse. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize it was so late—”

“Kuroo-san,” Daichi cut him off, expression amused. “It’s okay, I got as caught up as you. How far is your house from here, anyways?”

“About forty minutes,” Kuroo admitted, mind churning over the offer in his mind. He had a spare suit at work so he could go in early to change and no one would be any the wiser to his indiscretion in sneaking off to Daichi’s. It was almost perfect, especially since it meant he could stay with Daichi far longer than he’d initially planned.

“That’s too far,” Daichi shook his head. “Just stay, I have a guest bedroom and you look like a stiff enough wind might knock you over.”

Kuroo pouted, torn between feeling happy that Daichi was fussing over him and that he’d apparently found Kuroo to be less than presentable.

Ah, well, he’d still take it as a victory.

“Are you sure, Sa’amura? I don’t want to impose and it’s not exactly…”

“Proper?” Daichi finished for him, cocking an amused brow at Kuroo. “Do I need to be worried, Kuroo?”

“Of course not—” Kuroo started to respond only to falter, disbelief flickering over his face.

“Wait, you just said my name.”

“That’s usually how you address someone, yes,” Daichi dryly retorted, the smirk that took over the shorter man’s mouth sharp with it’s teasing intent. “You did say I should just call you Kuroo, remember? I’m just acknowledging your request.”

Kuroo’s mouth opened and closed a couple times before he flushed and groaned, rubbing a hand over his suddenly warm face to try and banish the heat that had built up in his cheeks. Oh, but Daichi could be _evil_ , which was certainly interesting but what was even more interesting was how absolutely okay with it Kuroo apparently was.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mumbled.

“I don’t think so,” Daichi lightly retorted, pausing for just a heartbeat before he grinned and added, “Kuroo.”

When Kuroo’s face turned bright red, Daichi laughed, delighted with his newfound power over the other man and quickly wiped down the counter around the sink to make sure everything was dry now that the last of the dishes had been processed.

“I’ll get the bath ready, you’re probably going to want to clean up, yeah?” Daichi offered, moving towards the living room where he paused and glanced back at Kuro with an inquiring look.

Kuroo nodded in agreement, relieved when Daichi seemed to take pity on him and had ceased his teasing after getting that last little barb in. “If you don’t mind, Sa’amura, that’d be really nice. Thanks.”

Daichi nodded and gestured Kuroo to follow him. “Let me show you where the guest bedroom is, first. I’ll get you something to wear, too. I have some old shorts that’ll fit you, if that’s okay? I don’t think any of my sweat pants would be long enough for you, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised with how short you are,” Kuroo teased, and just barely dodged the surprisingly fast swing Daichi made for his stomach.

“Oho, someone doesn’t like being teased as much as he likes teasing,” Kuroo snickered, enjoying being able to get back at Daichi after that little stunt he’d pulled back in the kitchen.

“Shut it,” Daichi grumbled, stopping at a door just off of the living room which he pulled open for Kuroo to peer into. “This is the guest bedroom—everything’s clean but I don’t know if you’ll want another blanket. It’s been cold, lately so I can get you another one if you’d like.”

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” Kuroo reassured, slanting a smile of thanks at Daichi for the offer, “I generally run hot when I sleep.”

“Oh. Well, good.” Daichi’s expression shifted in a way Kuroo couldn’t quite read before Daichi was turning away, leaving Kuroo to stare after him, bemused and curious.

Had it been something he’d said?

Kuroo stepped into the room for lack of anything better to do and shuffled over to the bed to flop backwards atop it’s surface with a low, satisfied sigh, his slipper covered feet hanging off of the edge of the bed. Laying out on an actual mattress felt phenomenal after toughing it on a futon in his office for the last week, and after just a few minutes atop the plush surface he could already feel his eyes sliding shut as he relaxed, surrounded by the pleasant smell of Daichi and the crisp scent of whatever laundry detergent the omega used.

When Daichi came back from finding the man proper clothing and filling the bath tub for his guest, it was to a completely passed out Kuroo who had already curled onto his side and was clutching one of the pillows to him, his chest slowly moving up and down in a steady tempo that indicated the man was actually asleep.

Daichi hesitated at the doorway for a moment when he realized Kuroo was unconscious before he wandered into the room, pausing beside the bed to peer quietly down at the dark haired man. When he took in the slack, relaxed caste Kuroo’s face had taken on, he found himself hesitating over whether or not to wake him, suddenly loathe to do so.

Kuroo was distracting like this, Daichi mused, soft and vulnerable against the blue tinted sheets that shimmered with the occasional flickering lights of the city outside that were strong enough to filter in through the sheer curtains covering the bedroom’s sole window.

Daichi would admit Kuroo was undeniably easy on the eyes, so much that Daichi still had trouble believing someone like Kuroo would be interested in him. Daichi was plain, average in all the ways Kuroo wasn’t. He was too short, his body stocky and not the willowy archetype normal for those that usually presented as omega. His thighs were large, too muscular and not soft like Kuroo would probably prefer. Daichi knew his jaw was a broad, and he didn’t possess the same sharp, refined angles that made Kuroo so distracting to look at.

And yet…

_“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, Sawamura.”_

Kuroo’s own words echoed in his mind as he let his eyes sweep over the man’s profile, gaze stilling over the pink flesh of Kuroo’s slightly parted lips.

Even if Daichi didn’t feel like he was on the same level as Kuroo in a lot of ways, he didn’t want to give up the natural connection they shared, the type he’d only dreamed of one day finding before he’d fortuitously ran into Kuroo that night just weeks ago in the gallery.

The more he came to learn of Kuroo, the more he felt he would willingly, without question, throw himself into the human supernova that was Kuroo. Daichi was starting to think he wouldn’t mind allowing the man burn away his insecurities beneath his white-hot focus, not when it meant he could be with Kuroo like he wished, familial complications be damned.

If there was anything in the world Daichi could selfishly admit to wanting to be his and his alone, it was Kuroo.


	7. Sawamura Daichi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi discovers Daichi's true identity, Nekomata strategizes with Oikawa and Iwaizumi while both Daichi and Kuroo find themselves preparing to do what is necessary to protect their growing attachment to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> Super excited to get this out to you! I have been looking forward to this chapter for WEEKS, ever since I drafted it out and I'm really curious to see how many of you knew what I had planned :D. We finally get to learn more about Nekomata's past as well as Daichi's family, DUN DUN DUNNNN. 
> 
> Special thanks to @vibrantbells and @photogiraffe77 for letting me chatter at them about my head canons for this series, as well as song recs (@vibrantbells)-- you both are the best! 
> 
> Enjoy All! 
> 
> Music Inspiration: 
> 
> Oceans Away- ARIZONA  
> And I Love You So- Don Mclean  
> Night and Morning- Alina Baraz

The examination of Takeda’s hard drive over the course of the two weeks following his and Oikawa’s mission had yielded a great deal of information, far more than Iwaizumi had originally anticipated. While reading through the many logs of Takeda’s emails he’d copied, Iwaizumi had inadvertently found out that Takeda’s father was a member of the prime minister’s cabinet, which had been both surprising and admittedly concerning, even if the risk to Tetsurou and the rest of them was currently limited as far as he could discern.

Iwaizumi still didn’t know what to make of the coincidence, and he’d already begun looking into determining what role, exactly, the elder Takeda held. It wasn’t a fool proof solution considering there was still a lot they didn’t know, but Iwaizumi had so far found no indications that the younger Takeda was acting as a mole for his father in what he’d seen of Takeda’s copied hard drive.

That didn’t make his involvement with the artist—who Iwaizumi now knew was actually called Sawamura Daichi— any less concerning, however.

The name Sawamura had immediately set off alarm bells in his mind when he’d found it on an electronic copy of the managerial contract Takeda had drafted with Sawamura. Iwaizumi had been certain he’d heard the family name before, even though he couldn’t place where, exactly and he’d turned to accessing the prefectural records to input the man’s name immediately afterwards.

It’d taken a few hours for the system to finally flag the appropriate family registry, but by the end of it, Iwaizumi’s hunch had been proven correct when the database dinged loudly. Pushing himself up off of his bed where he’d been lounging while leafing through intel related to another case Nekomata had handed him, Iwaizumi walked over to the computer and plopped down in front of it to begin reviewing the document the database had flagged for him.

In the first line, the name of the head of the family stared back at him in bold, black kanji and immediately Iwaizumi’s heart skipped a beat.

‘ _This is—_ ’

“Holy fuck,” Iwaizumi breathed, eyes wide as they flickered over the brightly lit screen of his laptop, drinking in the list of family members with growing disbelief. He almost thought it was a mistake until his eyes fell on the name of the very man he was investigating.

Head of Household: Ukai Ikkei

Permanent Domicile: Miyagi Prefecture

Subject 

**Name** : Sawamura Daichi

**Date of Birth** : 31/12/1994

**Father’s Name** : Sawamura Daisuke

**Mother or/Secondary Father’s Name** : Ukai Akari

**Sex/Secondary:** Male/Omega

Birth

**Date of Birth** : 31/12/1994

**Place of Birth** : Sendai Kousei Hospital

**Date Birth Registered** : 4/1/1995

Marriage

**Date of Marriage** : NA

**Name of Spouse** : NA

**Place of Marriage** : NA

Divorce

**Date of Divorce** : NA

**Name of Former Spouse** : NA

“HOLY FUCK!” Iwaizumi swore again, this time slamming his hand down on his desk loud enough that it caused Oikawa to cross the short distance between their rooms and slide open Iwaizumi’s wooden door so hard and fast that it quickly snapped back a little on it’s wooden track in response.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa lowly ground out, gaze hot enough to melt steel. “Do you _realize_ what time it is?”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi gasped at the sound of the man’s voice, swiveling around in his chair to stare at Oikawa for a long moment before he leapt up and ran over to grasp the brunette by his shirt, quickly tugging him over to the computer despite the loud squawk of protestations Oikawa screeched the entire way across his room. 

If he’d been thinking a little more clearly and not been so loopy with sleep deprivation, he’d have recognized how huge it was that Oikawa had come to his room following the disturbance he’d made. Oikawa had been doing everything in his power to avoid Iwaizumi since they’d come back from Takeda’s, so it was no small miracle that he’d come over.

“The artist—he’s one of us!”

Oikawa gave Iwaizumi a blank look that morphed into confusion, the Seijoh heir’s face pinched with exhaustion as he eyed Iwaizumi, clearly questioning if he’d gone mad.

“Iwa-chan, you’re not making any sense. It’s almost one in the morning—”

“Look,” Iwaizumi growled and abruptly grasped Oikawa’s head to turn his gaze towards the screen when Oikawa made no move to do so himself in his half-asleep state.

“Ow, Iwa-chan you brute!” Oikawa protested at the manhandling, already reaching up to fight off Iwaizumi’s hold before he froze, his hands simultaneously stilling over Iwaizumi’s as he stared at the screen in much the same dumbfounded manner Iwaizumi had been only moments before.

“He’s…” Oikawa’s eyes flickered over the document before coming to a standstill over the head of household’s name, the family surname that stared back at him instinctually lighting a jolt of exhilaration down his spine.

_Ukai Ikkei._

“Karasuno. Sawamura Daichi is a member of clan Karasuno.” Iwaizumi lowly finished for Oikawa. 

“Holy fuck,” Oikawa numbly mumbled, perfectly mirroring Iwaizumi’s earlier cursing fit.

Iwaizumi nodded in wordless agreement, expression somber. He wasn’t sure how Nekomata was going to take the news, considering the complicated relationship the two clans shared and Iwaizumi had the unenviable task of being the one who would need to inform Nekomata of what he’d found.

“My thoughts exactly.”

XxX

Nekomata, considering the hour, couldn’t help stare at Iwaizumi and Oikawa for a long, silent moment as he took in how equally disheveled the both of them looked standing outside of his rooms.

It was only the knowledge of how Oikawa had been ignoring Iwaizumi the last couple of weeks that prevented him from thinking anything untoward about it, and he hoped that it meant they were getting over whatever disagreement they’d had.

Nekomata had enough on his plate without having to worry about the state of Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s relationship. He’d only just smoothed things over between Yahaba and Kyoutani, and he’d started to think he’d have to do the same for his young charge if things had continued as they’d been.

Nekomata had found over the twenty-years he’d acted as the boy’s foster grandfather of sorts that Oikawa was sometimes his own worst enemy when he let his pride get the better of him. Especially when it came to instances where Oikawa was faced with his own failings and insecurities.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa always seemed to gravitate back towards one another, thankfully—even when at odds with one another—and it seemed like whatever spat they’d had, this instance was no different.

“Do you both realize what time it is?” Nekomata tiredly inquired, pulling the haori he’d hurriedly slid on a little more tightly over the yukata he wore beneath it in an attempt to keep out the early morning chill.

“That’s what I asked Iwa-chan,” Oikawa grumbled, before he gave Nekomata a clearly apologetic, if not slightly somber smile. “Could we talk, Nekomata ojii-san?”

“I’ve found out some information on the artist and his manager that you need to know of,” Iwaizumi added, and he watched as all exhaustion left Nekomata’s gaze with his words and the elderly man immediately stepped aside to allow them in.

He secured the door after they entered and gestured Oikawa and Iwaizumi over to the table set in the middle of the informal drawing room they were currently gathered in. Nekomata’s own personal sleeping quarters were just a wall over but cordoned off from prying eyes for unexpected vistors like the ones he’d just received.

“For you to come to me this late, it must be important,” Nekomata casually remarked, a subtle invitation for Iwaizumi to proceed with his debrief which the younger man quickly took.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa shared a look, Oikawa raising a brow at Iwaizumi before the stocky framed alpha sighed. Nekomata watched the silent exchange the whole while with growing exasperation and a dash of humor, well familiar with the silent conversations the pair often shared.

“Yes?” Nekomata pressed.

“The artist’s name is Sawamura Daichi,” Iwaizumi grudgingly started and immediately noticed the flicker of recognition that lit up Nekomata’s gaze, mixed with something close to shock.

“That’s not a common name.” Nekomata grudgingly admitted, his lips pursing together tightly as he considered the information Iwaizumi had just shared with him.

“His lineage?”

“Ukai Ikkei, the head of Karasuno— is his grandfather. I’ve confirmed it,” Iwaizumi reached into the right front pocket of his pants and slid a folded sheaf of papers towards Nekomata for him to look over himself. “Ukai Akari, Sawamura’s mother, is Ukai-sama’s daughter.”

Nekomata took the papers, copies of the registry documents Iwaizumi had pulled up, and absently looked them over, already well familiar with the names Iwaizumi had just rattled off.

His eyes paused on Ukai Akari’s documents, even though he knew what he would find as his eyes skimmed downward and Nekomata’s lips softened from their stiff line just a little when his gaze landed on a far too familiar name.

 **Mother or/Secondary Father’s Name _:_** Sugawara Hiro

“Indeed she is,” Nekomata lowly agreed, folding the papers back over and by doing so, pushing away the memories of warm brown eyes and a love that had been withheld from him so many years before, but had never fully left his heart. 

Iwaizumi didn’t take back the papers when Nekomata pushed them away, and the documents eventually came to a stand still in the middle of the table set between them. The trio lapsed into silence, held captive together by the collective knowledge they now shared.

Eventually, it was Oikawa that broke the silence.

“Karasuno doesn’t hold active relations with Nekoma beyond the clan wide niceties. No one talks about it, but it’s been that way for a while, hasn’t it? So why do this?”

“No, they do not,” Nekomata agreed, brown eyes shifting up from the table where he had been pensively mulling over the unexpected revelation that a member of Karasuno, out of all the other possible clans, had caught his grandson’s interest. The irony of the situation was truly ridiculous and had he not been so tired, Nekomata might have laughed. Nekomata men were truly helpless against the draw of the Karasuno bloodlines, it seemed.

His gaze locked with Oikawa’s as it rose, their serious expressions almost mirrored images of one another.

Nekomata understood what Oikawa was insinuating, that it made no sense for Karasuno to try something so obvious as to insert one of their members into Kuroo’s life in an attempt to either snare him into a mating bond just to force the mending of fences or for a political merger.

Or, even less likely, to conduct espionage.

Had Karasuno been trying to do anything of the sort, they wouldn’t have left so many clues for them to find until the deed was done and over with, and there was no way they would have allowed the grandson of the clan head to be involved. The political implications were too grievous, and would have reflected poorly on Karasuno, ultimately.

Ukai Ikkei might have been a selfish bastard, but he wasn’t the type to stoop to such a level. No, this was probably one huge, very inconvenient, coincidence. Nekomata wasn’t even sure that Karasuno had ever mourned the lack of communication between their two clans, truthfully. Nekomata didn’t think Karasuno was pining for a political alliance, or interested in delving into Nekoma’s inner dealings, either. Even before things had degraded, Karasuno had kept to themselves for the most part, content to be called on when needed but otherwise happy to exist the remainder of the time within their fields and businesses, away from the other clans.

Nekomata sighed with Oikawa’s question, and mulled over how best to answer the young Seijoh heir. The story itself was long, filled with drama and certainly convoluted.

“It was Nekoma’s own decision to end most communications with Karasuno.”

At that, Oikawa’s eyebrows flew up in surprise while Iwaizumi merely crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, the pair equally uncertain of what to make of the blunt admission.

“Nekoma willingly sabotaged relations with one of the only two remaining warrior clans?” The disbelief was thick in Oikawa’s voice.

Nekomata sighed, nodding reluctantly as a pursed frown overtook his mouth, unhappy with the memories their discussion was dredging up. “My father’s decision, and one that many members ultimately did not agree with.”

“He probably assumed that since Nekoma still held good relations with Seijoh, it didn’t matter if things fell to the wayside with Karasuno since he could depend on Seijoh’s fighting talents in a pinch,” Iwaizumi mused aloud, brow still furrowed in concern as he glanced from Nekomata to Oikawa.

“Well, Seijoh was always the stronger of the two, I can’t say I blame him.” Oikawa smirked, looking pleased at Iwaizumi’s choice of words.

“Don’t be so shitty about Karasuno’s issues with Nekoma,” Iwaizumi scolded his friend, slapping one hand down on the table in front of them in emphasis. “We’re still sister clans to Karasuno, you know. You could try and at least try and act like it.”

“If we’re sister clans, why didn’t they offer to help us pick up the pieces when things went to shit then, huh?” Oikawa hissed back at Iwaizumi, the light-hearted expression of smug amusement he’d just been wearing quickly gone just as fast as it had appeared.

The tension in the room doubled and Nekomata tensed as he realized the conversation at hand had been apparently forgotten in the heat of Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s disagreement.

“That’s not—”

“They could’ve stepped in, and offered to share the old techniques they still practice to help us replace some of the knowledge we lost in the aftermath of everything that happened, but they _didn’t_ , Iwa-chan. They were probably jumping for joy that they could finally pull ahead of us, that we were weakened for a change. You expect me to forget all of that and _suck up_ to them?”

Iwaizumi glowered at Oikawa, stubbornly incredulous in the face of his friend’s childish melt down.

“You know their clan probably had limitations placed on how much they could share without having unanimous approval from their clan elders!” Iwaizumi snapped back in protest, his own temper fraying quick with the lack of sleep he was still suffering from and the stress he’d been under the last week or so.

“Your father hadn’t exactly been trying to make friends with them, either, Oikawa. But—and here’s a thought— _you could_. Get over your petty shit and make things change the way you want if you don’t like the way they currently are!”

“Petty?” Oikawa sputtered, his eyes narrowing to slits.

“Yes, petty,” Iwaizumi bit back, not at all intimidated by the nasty look Oikawa had turned on him.

“And let’s not forget all you want to do is _run away_ when things get _complicated_.” 

Oikawa flushed, his eyes widening and he jerked back as if Iwaizumi had taken a physical swing at him, which Nekomata found quite interesting.

Despite having the distinct and growing suspicion that the young pair wasn’t even talking about Karasuno anymore, Nekomata abruptly growled to put a stop to their argument, the sound reverberating low and deep in his chest with clear warning.

Both Iwaizumi and Oikawa froze at the sound, their instincts making them snap backwards a little and straighten up at the implicit demand for attention from the older alpha. Compared to Nekomata they were still just younglings at twenty-six, and they instinctually felt compelled to acknowledge the man’s dominance.

Nekomata could be downright _terrifying_ when he was mad and neither of them wanted to see him lose his very considerable patience if it meant unleashing his wrath.

“That’s certainly enough from both of you,” Nekomata ordered, and the pair simultaneously twitched with the rebuke. He was relieved when neither protested, both looking suitably chastised and in Oikawa’s instance, also sullen.

“I expected a more mature mindset from you Tooru-kun,” Nekomata scolded. “Karasuno and Nekoma may have had their issues in recent years, but Seijoh and Karasuno have always been important allies to each other. I want that for you, you would be well served to have their support going forward which is why I want you to listen closely to what I am about to suggest.”

Oikawa shifted restlessly in his seat, clearly itching to say something. All it took was one pointed look from Nekomata to get him to abate and still. Oikawa was refusing to glance at Iwaizumi though, despite the fact Iwaizumi’s attention was directed solely onto Oikawa, the shorter male visibly frustrated at having been barred from digging into whatever it was that had put the usually inseparable pair at odds with one another.

“And as for you, Iwaizumi-kun,” Nekomata’s gaze shifted to the taciturn alpha seated across from him, sparing Oikawa for the moment, “I understand your frustration but you mustn’t let your anger get the best of you so easily. No matter how compelling the urge. I am very much certain that you both would be better served conversing with one another in a civilized manner rather than immediately going for each other’s throats. Don’t you both agree?”

The pair, still silent, slowly nodded.

“Are either of you familiar with the concept of ‘Hanlon’s Razor’?”

When Nekomata only received blank looks at the foreign phrase and a hesitant headshake from Iwaizumi in return, he inclined his head before continuing.

“Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity is essentially the premise,” Nekomata explained, “I want you both to take this to heart and remember it. When dealing with others, while it is always prudent to be wary, you must never outright assume malice lies behind a person’s action or inaction.”

“You’re saying Karasuno’s reasons for not stepping in to help Seijoh when Oikawa’s father committed suicide and burned down the estate weren’t due to apathy?” Iwaizumi questioned, not even trying to soften his words around Oikawa.

Iwaizumi was undoubtedly the more blunt of the pair, Nekomata mused, though he also knew Iwaizumi had a huge amount of faith and confidence in Oikawa’s strength. If he said things that came off as harsh, it was only because he believed Oikawa didn’t need to be babied and there was certainly some merit to that.

Especially when Oikawa was constantly fighting to prove himself.

“Among other things,” Nekomata agreed.

“I find it highly unlikely Karasuno would turn their back on Seijoh considering your history with one another and the joint responsibility you once shared to protect the heirs of the last two progenitor lines before Seijoh’s progenitor line died out. It’s true that Tooru-kun’s father had not been the most successful at fostering a strong relationship with Karasuno,” Nekomata admitted, before quickly adding, “but with how unstable he was, I doubt they took it personally. I think there was probably interference from their clan elders, like you said, Iwaizumi-kun. Karasuno’s elders, at least the ones I faced when I was your age, were always very traditional. They might have feared clan secrets getting out, it’s hard to say.”

Oikawa was suspiciously silent, and Iwaizumi pulled his gaze away from Nekomata to stare at Oikawa for a long moment until he leaned over to gently nudge the man’s shoulder with his own, the gesture both a silent question and partial apology.

“You’d be good at mending things with them, you know.” Iwaizumi’s voice was soft and low, but he wasn’t trying to keep their conversation private between the two of them, he couldn’t with Nekomata in the room.

Nekomata saw it for the olive branch it was and watched Oikawa’s brown eyes slowly shift from him to Iwaizumi.

Oikawa held Iwaizumi’s gaze, completely silent as they studied one another. It took a minute longer before the tension finally bled from Oikawa’s frame and the omega lightly tapped his shoulder against Iwaizumi’s in a mirror of the other man’s earlier action, signifying the end to their personal spat, much to Nekomata’s relief.

“Why did Nekoma stop interacting with Karasuno?”

The smile that spread across Nekomata’s mouth at Oikawa’s blunt question was decidedly wan, but no less sincere in the face of Oikawa’s newly improved mood.

“You certainly don’t beat around the bush, my boy. As I told you before, it was my father’s decision to cut ties with Karasuno, though I can’t deny at the time I felt a little vindicated by the gesture.”

Nekomata pulled the previously abandoned registry records Iwaizumi had brought and turned to Ukai Akari’s registry page before pushing it back towards Iwaizumi and Oikawa who both leaned forward to look at the document anew.

“Ukai Akari? What does Sawamura-san’s mother have to do with this, Nekomata-sama?” Iwaizumi questioned, frowning a little as he read over the lines of text, looking for anything that might give him an idea of what Nekomata was trying to highlight.

“Not her, but her second father.”

Nekomata could track the movement of the pair’s eyes as they zeroed in on the particular line of the paper he’d mentioned.

“Sugawara Hiro?” Oikawa was the one to ask, and the first to look up, one brow cocked in interest.

Nekomata nodded in assent, lips twisting into a tiny, almost pained smile.

“I met Hiro-kun when we were both very young. Considering I lived in the Tokyo region and he in Miyagi, it’s a wonder we managed to stay in contact so well. We grew close, despite only getting to physically see each other once a year when my clan traveled to Miyagi for the annual spring festival Karasuno has always hosted. Over time, between the letters and phone calls we exchanged, I realized I felt more for him than just a friend and when I was a little younger than the two of you, I asked if he wouldn’t allow me to court him.”

“Oh my god! You did?” Oikawa squeaked out, eyes going wide in surprise before a grin overtook his mouth, and he clapped his hands together excitedly.

“Nekomata ojii-san, that’s so smooth! How exactly did you propose? Oh! But…”

Oikawa faltered, and Nekomata knew the younger man had suddenly realized the reality of the situation when his brown eyes fell back down to the paper Nekomata had extracted for them to look over.

Ukai Akari was not Nekomata’s child—she was the child of Ukai Ikkei.

“He didn’t say yes?”

Nekomata shook his head, the smile he wore clearly sad. “No, he did. His parents gave their blessing, too. But the head of the Ukai clan had long held plans to try and arrange for Hiro to mate with his son, who he thought the better choice.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw was working silently, clenching a little and Nekomata wondered if maybe Iwaizumi was thinking of his own perceived inadequacies. Nekomata made a mental reminder to pull Iwaizumi aside and speak privately with him a little later. If there was anything Iwaizumi and Oikawa were good at, it was getting up inside their own heads to a point it turned detrimental, some times.

“The Sugawara family is an old one, well established even before it’s joining with Karasuno. Ukai Ikkei’s father did not want to lose the opportunity to join their families, and it was easy for him to get the elders to side with him. The elders of most of the clans in my day were far more insular than you’ll find today, Tooru-kun. I think they preferred to keep things ‘in the family’ so to speak.”

Oikawa scowled, his arms coming to fold across his chest in a wholly unimpressed manner.

“So they made Hiro-san rescind his decision?”

“Yes,” Nekomata admitted, “and my father cut all non-essential ties with Karasuno in retaliation for the insult.”

“That’s bullshit,” Iwaizumi finally spoke up, his expression dark and decidedly bitter.

Nekomata gifted Iwaizumi with a smile that was fond, but also carefully measured.

“I didn’t tell you this with the intention of pitting you against Karasuno, either of you. What happened nearly fifty years ago should have no bearing on Seijoh’s relationship with Karasuno.”

“Excuse me for saying this, but are you crazy?” Oikawa gave Nekomata a narrow look. “If you think I won’t take offense to the way they treated you—”

“Tooru-kun, please,” Nekomata cut his pseudo grandson off before he could truly gain any real steam.

“Nekomata-sama is right. We don’t know what the current Karasuno leadership is like, not really,” Iwaizumi insisted, though he looked no less troubled than Oikawa.

Much had probably changed since Nekomata had been young, and it wouldn’t serve Oikawa well to walk into what Nekomata had planned, which Iwaizumi already had some suspicions about, with preconceived notions as to Karasuno’s nature.

“All I am focused on now is making sure Tetsurou doesn’t end up with his heart broken, and that you make good ground with Karasuno.”

Nekomata’s voice was firm, and wordlessly insinuated that Oikawa was not to argue.

Oikawa looked like he’d swallowed ground glass, his expression was so pinched as he fought to behave, clearly not appreciating the way Nekomata was pulling rank on him.

“Well then,” Oikawa drawled after taking a moment to collect his thoughts and his temper, “how exactly were you planning to achieve that?”

The grin that spread across Nekomata’s expression was utterly devious.

“Why, it’s simple, my boy. We’re going to attend the spring festival and put forth a proposal to Karasuno if Tetsurou wants to pursue Sawamura-kun. In one move we can fix the issue of Tetsurou needing a mate and you can be introduced to Karasuno’s head and elders. It’s been years since Nekoma or Seijoh has attended. I think it’s about time we break the streak, don’t you?”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa stared at Nekomata in visible disbelief, glancing at one another before looking back at Nekomata, their eyes wide.

“We’re seriously going back to Miyagi?” Oikawa’s voice rose a few octaves, nearly a screech as Iwaizumi hissed for him to lower his voice, knocking his knee none too gently into Oikawa’s nearest thigh.

“I think there’s a bigger question here that’s more important, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grunted, quickly dodging the immediate swat Oikawa tried to take at him in response to his snark.

Iwaizumi’s attention shifted back to Nekomata. “You’re really alright with Tetsurou-san pursuing Sawamura-san after what happened with Karasuno and Hiro-san?”

Nekomata nodded, looking entirely non-plussed. “If nothing else, it’s time to bury the hatchet. Besides, with the efforts Tetsurou has been going to in order to sneak around with Sawamura-kun, I’d say chances are good that Sawamura-kun is receptive. I can bully Ukai Ikkei if he digs in and fights this. What his clan did and the repercussions that followed are well known. I think if anything, we have quite a bit of moral high ground in the current situation since we’d be proposing a way to smooth over relations once again.”

“…About that,” Iwaizumi cleared his throat, suddenly looking wary as if something had just occurred to him. “I didn’t see Tetsurou-san come home tonight. You don’t think…?”

Nekomata cocked a singular brow at Iwaizumi. “Oh? Well I’m not too surprised. Things have been a bit hectic at corporate headquarters. Tetsurou’s had to spend a few nights there the last week.”

Oikawa shifted, fidgeting in clear agony over some internal struggle he was having and both Iwaizumi and Nekomata’s gaze shifted towards the movement.

“Tooru-kun, do you know something I don’t?” Nekomata lowly asked.

“I wouldn’t say _know_ ,” Oikawa hedged, refusing to look up from the table where his fingers were lightly tapping just to have something to keep them busy, “maybe noticed is a better choice of words?”

Neither Nekomata or Iwaizumi looked very impressed at his attempts at semantics.

Oikawa thankfully seemed to understand as much, because before either of them could urge him to expand, he did so of his own volition.

“Yakkun might have mentioned to me on the way to the bathhouse earlier that Tettsun should be home shortly?” Oikawa coughed a little and discreetly leaned away from Iwaizumi, clearly anticipating retribution for not sharing this particular piece of information, despite the fact they hadn’t exactly been speaking at the time.

“Apparently Tettsun told Yakkun on his way out the door at the office that he’d called Kyouken-chan to pick him up. But Kyouken-chan never left. I know because he’s been with Yahaba-kun all night in his room.”

“…The fuck,” Iwaizumi gaped at Oikawa. “You didn’t think we might need to know that, Oikawa?”

“Tettsun is a grown man,” Oikawa sniped back, though the expression on his face was guilty and a little worried as well over his adopted brother’s whereabouts. “He knows how to hide when he wants to, you and I both know that very well.”

“This is the second week of him working at the office, coming up on almost the third,” Nekomata mused, eyes narrowing a little in consideration. Somehow he had the feeling this wasn’t the first time Tetsurou had bent the rules, and Nekomata was certain he had.

“You didn’t hear Tetsurou return to his room, did you, Tooru-kun?”

“No,” Oikawa blandly agreed, glowering at the table rather sullenly. “And I don’t see why _I’m_ being given the third degree when it’s stupid Tettsun who decided to prowl around like a careless cat in heat.”

“Oh my god, Shittykawa, do you even think about the crap that comes out of your mouth? Do you have to be so rude?!”

Nekomata sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his face as Oikawa and Iwaizumi devolved into their normal bickering, not at all phased by the turn of events. As he stared at them, Nekomata had the fleeting thought that Hiro, had he still been alive, would probably have found the entire situation delightfully hilarious. Hiro had always toed the line of reveling in chaos and trying to diffuse it, but he’d also been kind hearted and sweet. If anyone would have rooted for Tetsurou and Sawamura to succeed, it’d have been him. 

Even if Tetsurou really was with Sawamura, at least he would be safe in the man’s very capable hands. The knowledge his grandson was with a living weapon that could neutralize any threat that came their way was the only thing that would allow him to get any amount of rest tonight, once he got rid of his two bickering charges.

XxX

Since the first night that Kuroo had spent over at Daichi’s the week and a half before, they’d fallen into a pattern of sorts where Kuroo would come over for dinner and sometimes spend the night if it was too late.

Kuroo still expected his grandfather to call him out on it, or Kyoutani—but no one did. It was making him antsy, he found because he knew it wasn’t going to last if his previous luck was anything to go by, even if he’d tried to be as careful as possible in covering his tracks. He’d been scouring his brain all week in-between reading over mass spec results and statistical conclusions at work, to try and figure out just how he was going to even tell his grandfather about wanting to take things in a serious direction with Daichi.

His mind was still trying to plot out how he could ease Daichi into his family, too. There were so many things he’d have to explain, it was enough to give him an ulcer he was worrying so much about it. Not to mention the expectations that would be placed on Daichi by simply tying himself to Kuroo.

Could he really do that to him, when Daichi had experienced and suffered enough from the expectations already placed on him?

It didn’t help that Daichi had told him he’d be heading back to Miyagi to visit his family in three days and would be away for a full week and a half, maybe two if his family asked him to stay longer. Kuroo would have a lot of time with his thoughts and doubts, which was both a good and a bad thing, since he’d have no shortage of opportunities to really figure out a way forward.

Even Aiko, Daichi’s cat, who had finally deigned to reveal herself to Kuroo following his third visit to Daichi’s, seemed to have picked up on his unease from the way she was sullenly staring up at him when his leg twitched for the umpteenth time that hour. The cat was clearly not amused with the way Kuroo continued to subconsciously disturb her perch on his lap.

“What?” Kuroo complained, feeling suddenly called out by the judging stare the cat fixed on him with his latest leg spasm. “I can’t help it!”

Daichi, who was seated on the floor at the kotatsu sorting through some concept sketches he’d done of Kuroo just a short while before with the other man’s permission, looked up at the sudden exclamation, startled from his focus. He couldn’t hide his amusement as he quickly took in the laughable stand-off taking place on his couch between Kuroo and Aiko who were currently locked in an outright stare down.

“Is there a reason you’re glaring at my cat, Kuroo?”

“She’s judging me,” Kuroo automatically replied, a hint of a pout settling over his mouth as he finally pulled his gaze away and up to focus on Daichi, instead. “I’m trying to read and relax, but any time I shift I get _the look_.”

“You could always move her, you know.”

Kuroo looked horrified by the very rational suggestion. “You don’t just move a cat from your lap! That’s…that’s sacrilegious, Sawamura.”

Daichi hummed, clearly not as convinced as Kuroo was about that and instead narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at his guest. Kuroo wasn’t as calm as he normally was, hadn’t been all evening, really and Daichi was starting to get concerned.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Kuroo gave him a blank look, lost.

“I just told you…?” He pointed to Aiko, “she’s being puur-tic-ular. Get it? Puurticular?”

The finger guns Kuroo directed at him made Daichi’s mouth wobble a little, but otherwise he maintained a remarkably calm expression despite the flicker of amusement that was stirred up with the goofy gesture.

“Not the cat, Kuroo,” Daichi huffed, exasperated and blatantly rolling his eyes at the terrible pun which he firmly did not acknowledge because it would only give Kuroo ideas about being funny and Daichi was not about to add fuel to that particular dumpster fire.

“ _You_. What’s up with you?”

Kuroo squinted at Daichi, his expression a strange cross between pleased that Daichi had even noticed he wasn’t his usual self, and resigned.

“Sorry,” Kuroo exhaled, gently shutting the book of poetry Daichi had lent him since it didn’t seem like he was actually going to be getting any reading done, anytime soon.

He wasn’t even sure where to start, to be honest. He was still a little hesitant to say anything, loathe to jeopardize the easy pattern they’d settled into. How did you ask someone if they’d feel alright about becoming the other half of a partnership that would eventually be responsible for the welfare of a clan hundreds of people strong? Oh, and their existence had to stay under wraps no matter what. Kuroo couldn’t forget to mention that particularly glorious detail, either.

A normal person would balk, probably and run in the opposite direction at the first available opportunity after hearing all of that. The thought didn’t leave Kuroo feeling very confident, honestly, just queasy and deflated. It sucked, because he wanted to have that type of reliable partnership and the companionship that came along with it, too, so very badly—if it could be with Daichi.

Daichi was smart, levelheaded, kind but also strong and not one to back down from a challenge when the opportunity presented itself, he was coming to learn. The man was damn near a saint, in Kuroo’s very humble opinion and for some reason he hadn’t yet run screaming into the night despite having already seen the awkward, dorky mess Kuroo could sometimes be.

Daichi was perfect in so many ways that Kuroo could easily wax poetic about him continually if given the opportunity. He was the type of person Kuroo wanted standing next to him, he was growing increasingly sure of, the more he learned and saw of Daichi. Kuroo knew somehow that if things were to suddenly go to shit that very second, Daichi would be right there beside him in the middle of it, helping to pick up the pieces and keeping things from devolving even further into chaos.

Daichi was capable and resilient. It’d taken Kuroo growing up and having to learn along the way just how rare those traits often were in most people.

“I’m just…stressed, I guess.” he mused, congratulating himself for managing to not lie to Daichi, because it was entirely true, even if he was keeping purposefully vague about just what it was, exactly that was stressing him out.

Daichi hummed, eyes narrowed and focused on Kuroo for a long moment in which the Nekoma heir tried to discern even a smidgen of the complicated emotion flickering in Daichi’s pretty brown gaze. 

Unfortunately, by the time Daichi’s expression had eased and the short man abruptly stood up from where he’d been seated on the floor, Kuroo still hadn’t known what to make of Daichi’s focus on him as Daichi advanced towards the couch.

“Okay, turn over and lay down.”

Kuroo sputtered, mind blanking on him with the blunt order. “What?”

“Turn over and lay down on your stomach, Kuroo,” Daichi repeated, pausing in front of Kuroo who was staring up at him, eyes wide and his mouth partially agape.

“Aiko, you need to get down,” Daichi scolded, reaching out to pick up his cat and remove her effortlessly from Kuroo’s lap which successfully left the taller man with no choice but to do as Daichi had first order ordered.

“Not that I don’t trust you, Sa’amura but, uh…Why am I doing this, exactly?” Kuroo asked as he turned over and made himself comfortable, more than a little grateful Daichi’s couch happened to be just long enough to accommodate his gangly frame. He would’ve been pretty damn uncomfortable, otherwise.

“Because you’re stressed,” Daichi less than helpfully expanded on what he had planned and Kuroo sighed, folding his arms and resting his forehead atop them while he tried not to fidget too much.

“So you want me to meditate or something?”

A snort came from somewhere above him and he heard the soft sigh of Daichi’s clothing shifting, subtle and suggestive before the man’s surprisingly broad hands were suddenly pressing down on his shoulders.

Kuroo’s eyes snapped open in surprise and he started to turn before Daichi’s hands increased their pressure, insinuating he was to stay put.

“Relax, Kuroo,” Daichi ordered.

“Sawamura, you don’t need to—”

Daichi cut him off, fingers slowly starting up the process of rotating against the tight knots of corded muscle that lay over and between the curves of his shoulder blades and Kuroo was entirely incapable of muffling the groan that immediately slid from his throat.

“I think I did, actually,” Daichi lightly snipped back as he pushed forward with undoing the tension that had collectively built up in Kuroo’s muscles. It was amazing, actually, how Kuroo could have let it get so bad just through the self-imposed torture of hunching over a desk for at least nine hours a day. Daichi felt bad for not offering to do this earlier, but physical interaction was something they’d both been careful to avoid, for obvious reasons.

“Point. Taken. Oh… _damn_.” Kuroo grunted in between the particularly firm strokes of Daichi’s thumbs as they edged deeper still into the crevices of his shoulder blades closest to his spine. Kuroo couldn’t really remember the last time he’d had anyone rubbed his back. Maybe his mother? The memories of that time were too fuzzy though, and he couldn’t say for certain. Either way, it felt lovely, the things Daichi’s fingers were doing. 

The low laugh Daichi released above him went straight to his head like he’d just taken a shot of some high test liquor and Kuroo was infinitely glad his cheeks were currently hidden by his arms and messy hair since it helped to mask the flush that had spread across his skin at the pleasant sound. Just having Daichi’s hands on him, even though it was in an innocent manner, wasn’t exactly helping the problem, either.

They were breaking a lot of social norms considering they both followed the old ways, Kuroo couldn’t help but muse as he slowly relaxed beneath Daichi’s hands. There was him staying overnight at an unbonded omega’s apartment repeatedly, one he wasn’t related to and didn’t even have a courting pact in place with—then there was the fact he’d touched Sawamura during the course of his pre-heat the first night they’d met, even if had been necessary—and now Sawamura was willingly touching Kuroo of his own volition by giving him a back rub which was an innately intimate gesture on it’s own, despite the current context. 

Kuroo wondered if Daichi was bothered by it, at all. He couldn’t imagine Daichi’s family would be very pleased with the way they’d been acting, and the thought made Kuroo absently worry the inside of his lower lip. The last thing he wanted was to muddy the waters between them, though he supposed the fact Daichi had offered to work on his back was an indication Daichi felt perfectly comfortable with him and the contact they’d so far shared.

Kuroo had made it a point to keep to himself, even though he very much wished sometimes to wind his arms around Daichi and reel him in, just for the hell of it. It wasn’t his place, and until he could really ask Daichi to allow him to turn things in a more permanent and serious direction, he’d stick to being mindful of his actions.

“You’ve been rubbing your neck a lot,” Daichi explained aloud, fingers slowly working their circular movements upwards to highlight his point as he took up tackling the very area he’d just spoken of, immediately setting upon the tight knots Kuroo had formed along both sides of his neck and shoulders.

Kuroo hissed a little as Daichi relentlessly attacked the tense column of his neck and he couldn’t hide the way his breath caught when Daichi’s fingers hesitated before carefully skirting around the glands near the base of his neck and he relaxed a bit, his pulse still fluttering from the shock of the sensation. Daichi wasn’t trying to be coy, Kuroo was fairly certain, but the hesitation in Daichi’s movements in that moment made him wonder if maybe Kuroo wasn’t the only one who wished they could press the envelope a bit beyond what was acceptable.

“You’re really observant,” Kuroo mumbled, deciding to ignore the charged moment and force himself to relax and not think about how vulnerable a position he was in.

“And you’re really stressed,” Daichi shot back. “I’m surprised your parents haven’t tried to get you to take a break every once and a while. They can’t have missed how often you’re not at home. Aren’t they worried you’ll get burnt out, working like you do?”

“My ‘rents died years ago, so I’m kinda free to monitor myself in a lot of ways,” Kuroo honestly admitted, voice thickened with relaxation from Daichi’s soft presence and touch which were making the truth flow easily from him more than it might have, normally. “Been just gramps and I for a while, now. He’s a bit protective though, ‘s not fun to deal with when he gets going.”

Kuroo felt Daichi’s hands freeze immediately and at the cessation of the relaxing movements of Daichi’s fingers, his eyes flickered open to stare at the gray, tweed weave of Daichi’s couch. Confusion reigned before his mind caught up to the conversation and he realized the reason for Daichi’s hesitation.

“Kuroo, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Sawamura, it’s alright,” he chuckled quietly in an attempt to drive home how nonplussed he was by the words, “it was a long time ago, a car accident. Gramps and me have a good thing now, even if I bitch about him sometimes. Our extended family is big and I got a little brother, too, so it’s not like I’ve really been alone or anything. They won’t let me do something stupid and wear myself out, I wouldn’t hear the end of it otherwise.”

There was a pause of silence before Daichi returned to massaging Kuroo’s neck, his hands shifting to Kuroo’s shoulders, careful but firm as he kept up his movements. “They sound like a good family.”

“They are,” Kuroo agreed, huffing a tiny laugh as his eyes slid shut again. “Even if they do drive me nuts a lot of the time. My little brother is a menace.”

Daichi laughed at that and released a low, steady hum of commiseration above him. “That I can understand.”

“Crazy family, too, Sa’amura?”

“Very,” Daichi agreed. “My cousin, Suga—especially. Your little brother, does he look like you at all? I don’t know if the world can handle another one of you.”

Kuroo shook his head as best he could in his current position on his stomach, a tiny laugh escaping him at Daichi’s playful teasing.

Tooru definitely looked nothing like him, and for good reason.

“He’s ah…adopted, so we don’t actually share any biological relation. I was ten when he came to live with us, so he kinda just wandered after me a lot since I’m a few years older than him. I thought it was annoying at first, but he grows on you, you know? Before I knew it, I was ready to murder kids that even _looked_ at him wrong.” 

Daichi found himself smiling as he imagined a younger, protective Kuroo glaring balefully at a group of faceless children for antagonizing his little brother. It was a cute image, honestly and Daichi wondered briefly what sort of parent Kuroo was likely to be. He’d probably be just as protective, but nurturing, too. If Kuroo had gone out of his way to help a complete stranger get safely home before their pre-heat could fully kick in, Daichi suspected there weren’t any lengths Kuroo wouldn’t go to see his children taken care of and provided for.

He’d be a good father, if maybe a little lenient and indulgent, from what Daichi had so far observed of the man’s irreverent, playful attitude. He would need a partner who could be firm and unyielding, the voice of reason so to speak. Daichi could do that, easily, he mused before the progression of his thoughts finally registered and stopped him cold. It took everything he had to swallow back the choked curse that nearly escaped and he was grateful Kuroo couldn’t see the way his face was currently burning in embarrassment since it would have only invited questions he didn’t particularly want to answer at the moment.

Children? He was thinking about having _children_ with Kuroo?

He knew it was the natural course things would take, if he and Kuroo were to pivot to something more serious, but it had been so _easy_ to consider, and that was what made it so terrifying.

Daichi could easily imagine Suga’s cackling laughter and the teasing he would get from his cousin for succumbing to such thoughts. Had he really fallen so far into the dark hole of attraction that he was already beginning to devolve into a mushy, mooning idiot?

Yes, apparently he had.

Daichi cleared his throat, deciding to act like he hadn’t just suffered through a particularly embarrassing mental lapse and quickly remembered Kuroo was probably expecting him to say something after sharing details about his younger brother.

“It’s easy to be protective of your younger siblings,” Daichi amicably agreed, inwardly relieved to find his voice sounded pretty normal. “Just because you’re not actually related, doesn’t mean you don’t love him any less, right?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo agreed, and Daichi could hear nothing in the other man’s voice that suggested he’d noticed Daichi’s momentary lapse.

“I could do without the attitude, though. I swear the brat lives to needle people, just for the hell of it.”

Daichi snorted, less than sympathetic. “My, who does _that_ remind me of?”

Kuroo huffed something close to a laugh, his shoulders shaking with the movement and the tall man twisted one leg to playfully kick at Daichi’s nearest thigh as best he could from his current position.

“Sa’amura, it’s unfair to take advantage of a man when they’re indisposed and incapable of fully retaliating.”

“You should have clarified I had to play fair from the beginning, then,” Daichi retorted, “the rules of engagement have already been set.”

“Oooh, rules of engagement he says—ack—!”

Daichi had found a particularly large knot and had petulantly taken up rubbing it with newly found vigor in a subtle reminder of the fact he still very much had the advantage over Kuroo as the other man had just stated.

“Okay, okay!” Kuroo called Daichi’s bluff and sagged forward in relief when the firm pressure was eased up a little, drawing a low sigh from him. “Remind me to never piss you off for real, damn.”

“Smart man,” Daichi hummed and despite his words, his touch turned softer yet in a wordless apology.

Kuroo and Daichi ebbed into silence, Kuroo relaxing once again as Daichi’s hands eventually lulled him into a lazy, contented state that hovered close to the soft veil of sleep.

It was probably to blame for the words that rolled from his tongue a moment later.

“I’m gonna miss you while you’re gone, Sa’amura. It‘s been nice getting to see you so much, lately. Makes things not suck so bad.”

Daichi’s hands stilled at the admission and he stared, dumbfounded, at the back of Kuroo’s bowed head, heart beating fast and hard in his chest as he tried to collect himself back into some semblance of a coherent human being.

“I—I’m going to miss you too, Kuroo.”

It wasn’t a lie, either. Daichi knew he would be busy, so much that it would probably take up quite a bit of his concentration and the areas of his brain that Kuroo normally occupied on a normal day, but when things quieted down, Daichi knew he’d be thinking of the other man. It was inevitable, he’d found. Kuroo had started to burrow his way under Daichi’s skin, into the very fabric of his life and the landscape of his dreams. 

Kuroo’s presence brought with it hope and the desire for more than the fate he’d thought he’d be resigned to. Daichi felt like the gilded cage he’d ended up in might not feel so lonely, if he had Kuroo next to him. The man had a way of making him forget the limitations to his existence, and the sense of freedom was one Daichi was extremely reluctant to give up, now that he’d experienced it’s novelty.

He knew he’d have to speak with his grandfather when he returned to Miyagi in a few days, to ask him for the last and perhaps greatest, indulgence he had ever dared to request of the older man. Daichi knew his parents would probably fight him on potentially bonding and marrying Kuroo, but his grandfather would at least listen. It was the best opportunity he had to make this work, and Daichi wouldn’t squander it.

Daichi realized, when Kuroo said nothing further, that the other man had somehow fallen asleep. Amused and just a little exasperated at the fact, Daichi pulled back and straightened up to his normal height to stare down at the sprawled, relaxed form of his would be suitor who looked far from the intimidating company man he normally appeared.

“Seriously? What am I going to do with you?”

Huffing out a laugh that was more close to a sigh, Daichi shook his head and started to head towards the bathroom to prepare a bath for Kuroo before his guest got too comfortable on the sofa and decided to stay there the rest of the night. That’d definitely undo all the work he’d just done to get Kuroo’s muscles to return to some semblance of normal relaxation, which Daichi was not about to allow.

He really was going to miss Kuroo while he was gone, knew it with a certainty that left his chest feeling tight when he thought about it too much. Daichi, for the first time in his life, finally understood just why the poets he so loved to read both lamented and celebrated the mysteries of the heart.

Daichi, without even realizing it had happened, was certain he was very much in danger of losing his.

XxX

For those of you curious or still uncertain about the exact family tree of Daichi's family, you can see it, here. So hopefully this clears up everything: 


	8. A Leap of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daichi returns to Miyagi, Suga's bad influence is made apparent and Daichi comes clean to his grandfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All, 
> 
> Here's the next chapter, as promised! I had a blast finally bring Ukai Ikkei into the mix and hope you enjoy the start of the many Karasuno shenanigans that are due to follow over the next couple of chapters :). 
> 
> The start of next week is going to be a bit hectic for me, so I expect the upcoming chapter might be a few days late as a result. I promise to get it to you as soon as possible, though. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your continued comments and support. As always, it means so much! 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Music Inspiration:  
> These Foolish Things (Remind Me Of You)-Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong  
> Coming Home-Leon Bridges  
> Waves-Mr. Probz (Robin Schulz)

Daichi had mixed feelings returning to Miyagi, if he were being completely honest.

He was excited, but also well aware of the chaos he was likely to expect upon arriving and was understandably bracing himself for it. As soon as he’d boarded the train headed to Miyagi, he’d tried to occupy himself with reading, though it quickly lost it’s charm with the amount of nervous tension he was carrying around.

Instead, he’d ended up pulling out his sketchbook, deciding to try his hand at keeping his fingers busy and burning off some of the frenetic energy he was carrying in the process.

His decision to do as much had also, unfortunately, failed when he found himself staring down at the sketches he’d made of Kuroo just two nights prior. This, as expected, had the unfortunate effect of reminding him of the very man he was actively trying to push from his thoughts.

He couldn’t shake the lingering feeling he’d left a part of himself with Kuroo back in Tokyo, as saccharine a thought as that was. Whenever he let his concentration lapse, all Daichi could think of was Kuroo’s laugh, or the drawled ‘ _Oya Oya’_ the man tended to obnoxiously throw around whenever he’d found something particularly interesting or bemusing.

Daichi hadn’t intentionally attempted to catalog these quirks of Kuroo’s, and yet, he’d somehow memorized them and taken notice of the playful, rakish grin Kuroo would always turn on him when he was trying to be flirtatious or how cutely Kuroo would scowl when he read something he thought was particularly stupid.

Daichi had only found out this delightful tendency of Kuroo’s when the man had needed to bring some documents back to Daichi’s apartment one of the evenings he’d come over. It’d been the only way they could still see one another while simultaneously allowing Kuroo an opportunity to complete his work for the day.

‘ ** _This whole document is bullshit, Sa’amura,_** ’ Kuroo had bemoaned, and had gone into thorough detail about how the person putting together the summary apparently hadn’t included the test parameters of one of the screening assays for reference, as was normally proper. Daichi wasn’t at all familiar with Kuroo’s area of expertise, but he’d tried to listen and ask questions when he needed Kuroo to clarify for him just why the issues Kuroo had pointed out were truly a problem. It was endearing, how passionate Kuroo clearly was about his work.

Perhaps the most infuriating thing about being separated from Kuroo was that he was finding it took very nearly nothing at all to remind him of the other man. Earlier on in his journey he’d passed a woman on his way to use the bathroom at the opposite end of his train car, only to falter in his steps when he caught the lingering aroma of sandalwood scented incense bleeding off of her slim frame.

It’d immediately reminded Daichi of Kuroo’s cologne, and he’d felt that increasingly familiar tightness he was becoming accustomed to feeling at the most unexpected of moments, overtake his chest all over again.

He hadn’t been able to get back to his seat fast enough, after that.

Taking a deep, calming breath to center himself amongst his swirling thoughts, it was all Daichi could do to keep a hold of his sanity and not simply bash his head against the Plexiglas window in an attempt to knock some sense into himself.

What would Kuroo do tonight and the rest of the time Daichi was away? Was he thinking of Daichi as much as he was of Kuroo? His heart skipped a little when he recalled the sleepy way Kuroo had admitted he’d miss Daichi while he was away, the memory still fresh in his mind.

**_“I’m gonna miss you while you’re gone, Sa’amura. It‘s been nice getting to see you. Makes things not suck so bad...”_ **

Hearing Kuroo say such a thing had made Daichi’s entire body tingle with something he was tempted to call elation.

It was times like this that made him wish he could talk to someone about Kuroo and work through his complicated feelings where the other man was concerned. The only people who had even heard the name Kuroo Tetsurou were Takeda and Suga, and that had been in passing, just after Daichi’s first meeting with the alpha male. Not even Suga knew about the secret visits Kuroo had been making to his apartment every few nights. It felt illicit but also…special, somehow, that no one else knew.

Every time they’d come together in the privacy of his apartment, Daichi had been able to forget the outside world for a little while, along with the multiple constraints that could potentially keep them apart. It was easy to pretend like everything would be okay, when Kuroo was with him sharing dinner, making terrible jokes or simply reading beside him on Daichi’s comfortable couch.

Well able to anticipate where his thoughts were likely to lead shortly if he continued as he was, Daichi pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text to Suga, desperate for any sort of distraction to keep him from mulling on the ‘what-ifs’ that had begun to plague him ever since coming to the determination he’d need to speak with his grandfather if anything were to actually come of his relationship with Kuroo.

Daichi leaned back immediately after sending off the text and exhaled, snapping his sketch book shut definitively and shoving it back into the backpack he’d pulled it from. He wasn’t going to think about Kuroo right now, he _wasn’t_.

Thankfully, a moment later his phone vibrated, alerting him to Suga’s response and Daichi quickly flicked on the screen to read and respond to Suga’s text.

**8:50 am**

**Is it just going to be you at the station??**

**[From: Suga]**

**8:55 am**

**Nope!**

Daichi sighed, of course Suga wasn’t going to come alone even though he’d expressly asked him to keep his arrival quiet.

**8:55 am**

**On the kouhai-sibling scale of chaos, how bad is it?**

**[From: Suga]**

**8:56 am**

**Prbly 9, sorry Daichi**

**8:56 am**

**The hell you are. I know you told them you were coming to pick me up. I told you not to!**

**[From: Suga]**

**8:56 am**

**I admit to nthin**

**8:56 am**

**Suga, I’m going to kill you.**

**[From: Suga]**

**8:56 am**

**Bring it city boy baha**

**8:57 am**

**I know where you keep your chocolate stashes, ALL of them. It would be terrible if someone just happened to leak that information to Nishinoya.**

**[From: Suga]**

**8:57 am**

**…you wouldn’t**

**8:57 am**

**Keep testing me and see what happens.**

**[From: Suga]**

**8:58 am**

**Daiiiichi! I TRUSTED YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY YOUR FAVORITE COUSIN?!**

**8:58 am**

**Who said you were my favorite?**

Daichi smiled at the indignant, rabid texts Suga started to shoot at him like rapid fire and couldn’t help but laugh, his earlier depressed thoughts ebbing into nothingness with the familiarity of their banter.

He really had missed Suga, and the rest of his crazy family. Daichi knew they were going to drive him close to, if not into outright insanity before he left, but he supposed there were worse fates he could find himself saddled with.

When the train finally pulled into Sakunami station deep in the heart of Miyagi an hour later, and following many angry texts from Suga, Daichi was very nearly taken out by his own sister mere steps from the train doors he’d only just walked through. 

“Aoi, wait--!” Daichi yelped, and it was only his quick reflexes and his foresight to throw his suitcase to the ground that saved him from being outright bowled over by his sister who he braced with both hands as she leapt at him with all of her strength and momentum.

“DAICHI-NII!”

“Hey kiddo,” Daichi greeted, bemused at how tightly his sister was squeezing his torso, to the point it was almost hard to breathe. Not about to be outdone in their sibling antics, Daichi quickly ruffled her hair, well aware how huffy she’d get with the gesture.

“Hey, not the hair!”

“Sorry,” Daichi chuckled, though he was not really sorry at all because it would never not be fun to wind her up. He turned a considering eye on his sister, immediately taking in the added inches of height she’d put on since he’d last seen her and fought back a sigh of dismay.

“You little leech, when did you get so strong and tall?”

Aoi gave him a flat look, unimpressed with the question.

“You try and cart Satoshi’s unconscious body around because Keishin-nii always drinks him under the table and you’d bulk up pretty quick, too.”

Daichi groaned, entirely not surprised. Where Aoi was level headed, if not a bit mischievous sometimes, their brother—Aoi’s twin—was a wild child through and through. The two couldn’t be any more different in terms of personality even though they looked physically very similar. 

Both Aoi and Satoshi had the same black hair as Daichi, though styled decidedly differently and the same brown eyes, too. Aoi had a sharper jaw and more delicately pronounced cheekbones, a clear Ukai trait while Daichi and Satoshi both had rounder faces more in line with the Sawamura side of their family. Even though Aoi was five years younger than Daichi, she was already breaking hearts with how pretty and capable she was. Unlike Daichi, she had presented as an omega at a much more normal age, and had been eased into the unique dynamics of her secondary gender with much less friction, thankfully.

Daichi made a mental note to speak with Asahi about what his sister had been up to, dating wise since he’d last visited. If anyone were to be honest with him, it was Asahi who literally found it physically impossible to lie, he got so flustered. It made him terrible for actual shadow work, but he was an asset in other tasks that required supportive action like creating undercover outfits or other detail oriented fabrications that they occasionally required when approached by the other clans for more physically demanding jobs that might necessitate actual use of force.

“Mom must _love_ that.”

Aoi grinned, devious and sharp. “She wouldn’t, if she actually knew. Satoshi and I have an ongoing agreement where I get half of his monthly paycheck to keep mum on his hijinks and look the other way when he sneaks back into the house at night.”

Daichi’s eyes narrowed and shifted from Aoi, to Suga who had just walked up to them at a much more sedate pace, a wide, beatific if not slightly sharp grin plastered on his mouth.

“Hi there, traitor—I mean, best friend.”

“What have you been teaching my sister, Suga?” Daichi flatly responded, secretly amused that Suga was still apparently smarting over the threat Daichi had leveled at the other man’s chocolate stash.

“Whatever do you mean?” Suga fluttered his eyes in a way that anyone else would find believably innocent, but Daichi immediately saw for the farce it was.

“Aoi has suddenly decided it’s alright to monetarily extort our little brother. This has your name written all over it.”

Daichi’s expression was deadpan and decidedly unimpressed as he focused his best glower on Suga.

Completely undeterred by the man’s stare, Suga laughed, his grin turning wicked as he shared a glance with Aoi and promptly threw an arm over her shoulders when she finally stepped back from hugging the life out of Daichi. “My protégé is learning nicely, I must say.”

Already, Daichi could feel a headache building behind his eyes and he hadn’t even managed to make it off the train platform, yet, which was a new record.

“Why are you like this?” Daichi tiredly muttered, expression completely woebegone at his luck of being related to a living, breathing devil like Suga.

“I’m just lucky to have been blessed with good looks and brains, what can I say?” Suga had the audacity to wink at Daichi before glancing back towards the parking lot when a particularly loud chorus of voices carried towards them through the faintly muggy air, the last remnants of an earlier rain storm that had blown through the area a few hours before.

Miyagi prefecture tended to receive a lot of rain in the spring and summer months, and the wet season was just about to start in earnest. Daichi couldn’t help but take a deep inhale, the familiar, clean air relaxing him in a way Tokyo had never quite managed to, the smell of grass and greenery a soothing balm to his currently worried soul.

“DAIIIICHIIII-SANNNNN!”

Even from afar, Daichi could see the short, bouncing forms of both Nishinoya and Hinata leaping up and down in excitement beside what Daichi recognized as Asahi’s old, beat up truck. The tall omega was standing beside the two miscreants— probably to keep them in line and out of trouble—and gave a much more sedate, polite wave of greeting which Daichi was quick to return before ducking down to collect his discarded suitcase.

“I suppose we should go before those two get set loose on the station,” Daichi chuckled, and quickly dodged left when Suga attempted to drop kick him the moment he was bent over.

“I guess you haven’t slacked off too badly if you were able to dodge that,” Suga innocently noted, acting as if he had simply been screening Daichi rather than trying to get him back for his earlier threat of compromising his all-important chocolate hoard. 

“I can still take you any day of the week, Suga,” Daichi huffed, glaring at his best friend, less than impressed with the attempted ambush.

Aoi rolled her eyes at the both of them and plucked Daichi’s suitcase from his grasp before leading the way back to Asahi’s car, apparently done with their antics. “Come on you old farts, you can pick up your cat fighting back at home before your arthritis really sets in.”

“ _Cat fighting_? _Old farts_?” Daichi repeated, offended.

“You heard me,” Aoi trilled, fluttering her lashes at him in a coyly sarcastic manner that was a near carbon copy of Suga’s same signature gesture before she nearly skipped her way back towards Asahi and the boys.

Daichi pointed at his best friend accusingly, expression appalled. “I blame you for this.”

“I blame myself, too,” Suga pouted, the mock look of heartbreak he was wearing almost laughable, “I wanna be proud, but…”

“She’s downright vicious,” Daichi finished.

Daichi’s eyes locked with Suga’s and the two stared at each other solemnly for a moment before both bursting into laughter.

When Suga threw his arm over Daichi’s shoulder, he made no move to throw it off and leaned just a little into his best friend’s side as they headed for the parking lot. Despite the chaos, Daichi really was very glad to be home.

xXx

Up the hill from the main city of Sakunami and one ridge over in a sprawling valley hidden within the mountainous terrain of Miyagi, his hometown of Karasu lay. The isolated valley had been their ancestral homeland for generations, deeded to the clan hundreds of years before by the first Shogun as a gift for their services in helping to establish the Tokugawa Shogunate.

The isolation kept them safe from interlopers, for the most part, though they did occasionally receive tourists who flocked to the area to take advantage of the many hot springs and ryokan inns that dotted the region. They never stayed for long, however, and had never been a real concern as a result.

The trip from the station to their village had been uneventful, as expected. Nothing had really changed since Daichi had visited last, as much as he could see from his vantage point in the passenger front seat of Asahi’s car.

Their clan’s agricultural fields and flower crops were thriving, and the few people that were walking the fields all called out their greetings as Asahi drove past, the news of Daichi’s arrival already having quickly spread.

On account of it’s small size and close knit community, nothing stayed secret for long, in Karasu. Especially when two of the largest gossips in their clan—Nishinoya and Suga—were involved.

Hinata said as much, too.

“Ne, ne, Daichi-san! Nishinoya-san told everyone you were coming early this time and might stay a little longer, too! Does that mean you could practice with me?”

“Well, I’m not sure—” Daichi started, only to be cut off by Hinata’s continued, excited pleas that echoed loudly in the confined space of the truck’s interior cabin.

Daichi didn’t miss the way Suga, who was seated beside Hinata, winced and felt a dark, brief swell of satisfaction at the display. Suga had joked about telling Hinata and Nishinoya about his arrival and bringing them along but now Suga was just as much at their mercy as the rest of them.

This was _exactly_ why Daichi had wanted to get settled in before anyone even knew he’d arrived.

“Please, Daichi-san! I want to learn how to use tanto better! And to practice yabusame with you! Bakageyama said I can’t ever get better, but I know I can if someone like you teaches me!”

“My yabusame skills are rusty, Hinata,” Daichi hedged. “I was only intending on entering the tanto competition this year, so—”

“Whimp.” Suga grunted, rudely interrupting Daichi and earning a scowl in result. “You aren’t getting out of it. You’re joining me so you and I can compete in the relay, like always. You still have a few days to practice, so we will. You always scored high in that area of our schooling, you’ll do _fine_.”

“What happened to me ‘taking it easy’?” Daichi snarked, sounding just a little petulant, which he felt he was entitled to be considering the fact Suga wasn’t going to give up on this.

“You got here early enough that you’ll still be able to relax some before things really start. Besides, didn’t you say your parents might want you to stick around a little longer, afterwards? You can relax then.”

“Suga, do you not know my family? There will be no relaxing. Just chaos and stress,” Daichi let his head tip back against the headrest of his seat and glanced over at their driver, gaze flat and unimpressed, when Asahi released a soft chuckle beside him. 

Aoi immediately protested Daichi’s choice of words, with an offended, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”, from beside Nishinoya who was grinning widely, truly amused by the chaos going on around him.

“Sorry,” Asahi squeaked out, the apology coming quick after he’d caught sight of Daichi’s frankly mutinous expression at his and Nishinoya’s amusement.

“I mean,” Nishinoya chimed in between a round of obnoxious laughter at his mate’s sudden fright, “Daichi isn’t wrong, Suga. His mom is probably going to have him roped into food prep before the festival, too.”

“Does that mean you can’t teach me after all, Daichi-san?” Hinata murmured, and for being nearly twenty-one already, he sounded so child-like in his dejection that it made Daichi sigh, the guilt hitting him immediately.

“No,” Daichi weakly shook his head, “I can practice with you a bit, Hinata. Maybe this weekend? I’ll want to do some practice with Suga first, myself before we test your yabusame skills, but we can do both that and some tanto practice.”

The cheer Hinata let out was ungodly loud, even Asahi’s eyes widened a little, the man’s long fingers tightening reflexively against the steering wheel while Daichi groaned in pain, his ears ringing long after the offending screech had ended.

“Hinata, maybe—not so _loud_?” Daichi turned in his seat to stare pointedly back at the red head with a grin that bordered on menacing and which made both Hinata and Nishinoya freeze instinctually in terror.

“Oh shit,” Aoi softly cursed, voice vibrating with a bit of amusement despite the genuine fear that also coated her words. “You’ve done it now, Hinata.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Hinata squeaked out, Aoi’s words only increasing his hysteria and Daichi eyed the boy speculatively before turning his disappointed gaze on his sister.

“Aoi, no cursing.”

Suga snorted at the purely parental response and Daichi’s attention shot to him, next, feeling very much like he was in charge of a gaggle of toddlers rather than a bunch of twenty-somethings.

“I will have Asahi pull this car over, just watch me.”

The group was quiet for a long moment before Aoi started to snicker, and then Nishinoya— who started to outright laugh, and before Daichi knew it, Suga and Hinata were laughing, too.

Though faint, Daichi heard the soft snort that left Asahi and Daichi shot his friend a betrayed look as laughter surrounded him from all sides. “You, too, Asahi?”

Asahi’s grin was apologetic, but the mirth was clear in his eyes as he briefly glanced over at his friend and then back to the road, not about to risk getting into an accident.

“Sorry, Daichi. It is funny though, you have to admit, how much of a dad you can sometimes be. Welcome back, by the way. We’ve really missed you.”

xXx

The rest of the afternoon and early evening passed in much the same way, with Daichi getting inundated by well-wishers and relatives who gradually flocked over to his parent’s house to hear all about his exciting Tokyo experiences and throw out less than subtle offers to introduce him to family friends who were looking to settle down.

Neither veins of discussion were particularly enjoyable, but there was always some variant of each that he could expect to have to face down, and he’d become rather good at deflecting. Daichi tried to insist it wasn’t that exciting, his life in Tokyo— mostly to get attention off of him, but he also knew after having lived in the city for a couple of years already, it really wasn’t quite the glamorous existence his relatives thought it to be. As for the propositions to introduce him to potential partners, well, it wasn’t a lie that Daichi was focused on his work.

He just conveniently didn’t mention there was already someone he had his sights set on, too.

Thankfully his mother had no compunctions about kicking out their uninvited extended relations after they overstayed their welcome and threatened her timeline to get food on the table. Dinner itself was a much smaller affair as a result, just Daichi’s parents, siblings and his grandfather huddled around his mother’s famous hot pot spread at the same old, worn table he’d eaten at as a child.

It was good, as it always was, but Daichi found himself more distracted than normal with his grandfather seated across from him. All he could think about was the conversation he wanted to have with the older man, the taste of the food he ate barely registering on his tongue. Daichi kept thinking of all the arguments he could make, the reasons why he thought Kuroo to be a good choice, and even though he knew he could rely on his grandfather’s love for him to potentially turn things in his favor, he couldn’t help but feel afraid, too.

Having nearly arrived at the very interaction that would either give life to his dream of a possible future with Kuroo, or take it away, felt something close to what Daichi imagined cliff divers experienced in the lead up to a jump. Even with a parachute, you could never know until you were actually in the air, just how you’d truly land.

Your parachute could not deploy at all, sending you to certain doom, or it could alternatively open— with difficulties— leading to a rough landing. The idea of a smooth descent seemed so much more remarkable in the face of those possibilities.

Which begged the question, was the adrenaline garnered from the leap of faith truly worth the risk?

Daichi still didn’t know the answer by the end of dinner, and wondered if he ever would, honestly.

As the table was cleared of the last remnants of their meal, Daichi lingered behind, desperately trying to come up with a discreet way of asking his grandfather to talk in a way that wouldn’t arouse his mother’s suspicions. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted her privy to, just yet, not until he knew what his grandfather’s stance on his request would be.

His mother almost made the decision for him, pausing at the hallway entrance that lead towards the kitchen with a trayful of dishes when he didn’t immediately follow. Her expression was questioning at his delay, and his stomach sank a little.

“Ne, Daichi, get the rest of those dishes and come help me, please.”

Daichi fought back a groan and nodded, collecting the last of the dishes from the table top at her direction beneath his grandfather’s sharp, attentive stare.

“Actually Akari, I wanted to talk with Daichi,” Ukai cut in, and Daichi froze, “he promised me he was going to tell me all about the gallery and it’s been some time since he and I last sat down together and caught up.”

Daichi stared at his grandfather with a carefully crafted expression of nonchalance even though internally he was more than just a little anxious and feeling decidedly confused at the moment. He’d done no such thing, which made him suspect his grandfather had somehow picked up on the fact he wanted to speak with him, and if he had, it meant his mother might have, too.

“Oh,” Akari blinked, and glanced at Daichi curiously before an uncertain smile twisted her lips, her brown gaze shifting back and forth between her son and father. “Well, you two should catch up, then.”

“Thanks, Okaa-san. I promise I’ll help if there’s anything left when I get back,” Daichi tried to sound casual and glanced at his grandfather briefly, idly wondering what he was getting himself into. “Let me just drop off these dishes first, Jii-san.”

Ukai nodded, eyes flickering with something close to amusement and Daichi paused in turning away, his own gaze narrowing in suspicion before he continued to carry the last few dishes to the kitchen for his mother.

When he came back, his grandfather was already standing, his tall, lithe frame leaning against one of the beams that separated their dining room from the veranda beyond, the doors that normally cordoned off the area having been slid open to enjoy the warming spring air.

Ukai leveled an appraising look at his grandson before tipping his head to the left, indicating Daichi should follow him as he pushed himself off of the beam he’d been reclining against.

“Walk with me, kid.”

Not exactly sure what he was in store for, Daichi fell into step with the older man and let him lead where he wished.

The Sawamura home was one of the larger buildings of the Ukai family holdings on account of their household size. Daichi remembered that they had lived in a smaller house, before the twins were born, and a little after they had, too—but the space had been tight. When it became clear their first home would likely not survive three rambunctious Sawamura children, his grandfather had promptly arranged for them to move into their current house.

Daichi had some idea of where they were going, having run along the very same planks of wood so many times growing up that he could easily traverse the path they were taking blindfolded, if need be. He wondered a little at the fact his grandfather was taking him towards one of the more private ends of the sprawling building and Daichi had the distinct impression his grandfather did not want anyone else to hear what they were going to discuss.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so distracted before, Daichi,” Ukai admitted, breaking the silence in a manner that didn’t feel forced at all.

The man was an accomplished leader, so Daichi shouldn’t be surprised his grandfather would’ve noted such a thing. The older man had an uncanny ability to read a room from his many years of experience leading their clan through much more taxing experiences than a simple family dinner. He supposed it had only been a matter of time before the older man had picked up on his unease. It was one of the many things Daichi respected about his grandfather, how effectively he could observe and lead others while still making it seem so effortless.

“I didn’t mean to be, Jii-san,” Daichi was quick to apologize, his cheeks heating just a little in embarrassment. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t the best at dinner. I’ve just had a bit on my mind.”

“I guessed as much. Especially with the way you kept trying to school your expressions in front of your parents, particularly your mother before looking at me.”

The Ukai elder’s eyes were almost glowing beneath the faint, warm light of the lanterns they passed under every few feet along the veranda and Daichi felt pierced beneath their focus as they finally came to a stop beside the modest garden space his mother had carefully tended to for years.

Daichi had expected this to be the place his grandfather would bring him the moment they had headed off on the route chosen by the older man. The garden lay towards the back of their house, an area where guests normally stayed while visiting and as such, it was almost perpetually empty, allowing them complete privacy.

“Now then,” Ukai settled down on the edge of the veranda, allowing his legs to hang comfortably over the edge as he made himself at home, “you have something you couldn’t say in front of my Akari, but you wanted to tell your old gramps, hm?”

Daichi settled down beside the other man and watched as his grandfather pulled out his old, battered pipe, the wood well-worn and smooth from years of use, followed by the small satchel of tobacco leaves he always carted around. While he absently watched his grandfather prepare his pipe, already intimately familiar with the process, Daichi let his mind drift a bit as he tried to determine just how to bring up the topic of Kuroo in a way that wouldn’t alarm his grandfather too badly.

“It’s not exactly easy to talk about,” Daichi admitted.

“Most things that matter or are damn complicated, usually aren’t.” Ukai wisely retorted and the words startled a sharp, but real laugh from Daichi.

“You could say that again. It’s definitely complicated.” Daichi grumbled, expression faintly pinched.

Ukai huffed a laugh of his own and took a long draw from the lip of his newly lit pipe, and the billow of smoke he breathed out a moment later slowly snaked upward into the night air like a wingless dragon.

“Well, in that case, starting at the beginning might be the best choice, Daichi.”

That was a reasonable ask, and yet, Daichi still found himself hesitating.

“Jii-san…did you ever want something, even though you knew you shouldn’t?”

Ukai’s silver eyebrows creeped slowly up his wrinkled forehead with Daichi’s words and the look he focused on Daichi was tinged with clear bemusement.

“I’ve wanted a great many things in my life, my boy. I want daifuku all the time, for example, even though I definitely shouldn’t. You’ll need to be more specific, though—since I doubt you’re talking about sweets.”

Daichi groaned and shot his grandfather an exasperated look of his own. “Jii-san, I was being _serious_.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Ukai chided, lazily flapping his hand at Daichi, “it’s unlike you. That’s more your brother’s thing.”

“Maybe he’s on to something, then.”

Ukai snorted before taking another long draw of his pipe, expression turning contemplative as he studied his second oldest grandchild. It really wasn’t like Daichi to be so sullen and hesitant. While the boy had always been thoughtful and introspective, it’d never been to the extent he was observing currently, and there was an anxious energy Daichi was carrying with him that was frankly concerning.

“Daichi, have I ever given you pause to think I would not support you?” The question while pointed, wasn’t accusatory, and Ukai watched while Daichi played with his hands nervously, the boy’s gaze currently turned outwards to the garden.

“No,” Daichi agreed, “that’s why I wanted to talk to you about this because I think you would. Probably.”

“Probably,” Ukai repeated, tone a mix of incredulous and amused. “Glowing endorsement there, my boy, truly.” 

Daichi released a guttural sigh and in the silence that followed, he finally turned his gaze back to his grandfather, expression resigned and a little tired, too.

“I think I found someone I want to bond with, Jii-san. I think he wants that, too.”

Ukai, despite his almost unnatural skill at anticipating things, had not been prepared for Daichi to admit to having developed romantic feelings for someone. Out of all his grandchildren, Ukai had long expected his second grandson to fight bonding and marrying, just as Daichi had done against the life his parents had tried to push upon him following his presentation as an omega.

In a great many aspects, Daichi reminded him of Hiro. They shared the same depth of determination and quiet fortitude. Daichi was also, unquestionably, the one most at war with what was expected of him duty wise and what he truly desired.

The insinuation behind Daichi’s hesitance to discuss the development of his interest in a potential partner was immediately grasped by him, and it took him a moment to collect his thoughts as his mind raced with the implications.

“He’s an outsider, then?” Ukai bluntly asked, seeing no need, or any use in beating around the proverbial bush.

“Yeah,” Daichi nodded, his entire countenance flat and resigned. Even his grandfather’s blunt verbiage wasn’t able to coax a wince from him, which was telling.

Ukai released a low hum of understanding, and lapsed into thought, quietly puffing away at his pipe.

“Well, tell me about him,” Ukai demanded after a few minutes of considering how likely his chances were that he’d be able to get the elders to bend on the matter, if Daichi was truly serious about pursuing this mystery man. “You haven’t given me much to work with, my boy.”

Daichi’s expression was visibly amazed, and Ukai barked out a short laugh, tapping the tip of his pipe carefully against the edge of the veranda to dispose of some of the built up ash that had slowly started to collect in the wooden bowl.

“Come now, Daichi. You said it yourself, you believed I would support you.” The look he turned on his grandson was fond, if not a little exasperated.

“Sorry, I mean—” Daichi flushed and released a low groan that was delightfully endearing in how clear it showed the boy’s embarrassment.

Ukai allowed himself a small chuckle. “I know what you meant, my boy.”

Daichi sighed and let his head tilt to the side and fall with a soft ‘clunk’ against the broad wooden pillar beside him that supported the roof above.

“I used to actually function like a normal human being before I met him. Now I’m a mental basket case,” Daichi grumbled, though Ukai could detect no real heat to his words.

“Mm, if it’s any consolation that is a completely normal side effect of being enamored with someone.”

Daichi did not miss the teasing lilt to his grandfather’s words and he turned an exasperated, resigned stare on the other man.

“That’s so reassuring,” Daichi muttered, every syllable uttered in bitterness.

“Well how did you meet? What’s his name?” Ukai asked, since Daichi was being slow to open up and he thought that might be the thing to coax him into divulging more information.

“You know my gallery opening night?” Daichi asked, even though he knew his grandfather did. The man had called him the evening before to wish him luck and convey how much he wished he’d been able to attend, if his duties hadn’t interfered.

At Ukai’s nod, Daichi continued.

“I met him there—he was cocky at first and I thought he was just another entitled alpha, no offense.” He shot his grandfather an apologetic look, and he received a quick smile of bemusement which told Daichi the other man was far from being insulted. “We got to talking and we just clicked, I guess is the best way to describe it. He—uhm, ended up helping me out when I ran into a bit of difficulty that night. I guess I was struck by how kind and thoughtful he actually ended up being and I just…”

Ukai had a feeling there was more to that than Daichi was just saying, and interrupted before his grandson could push on.

“Helped you?”

Daichi cleared his throat, the earlier blush he’d worn coming back with a vengeance which made Ukai take pause, his attention completely coming to focus on Daichi with the telling reaction.

“I started a new endocrine suppressor leading up to the opening because I knew my heat was going to be starting up shortly after it, and I was afraid my pre-heat symptoms might give away my secondary gender.” Daichi looked away, expression shuttered and tinged with what Ukai could tell was shame. “It didn’t work right though, and I ended up actually triggering my pre-heat phase while I was talking with him. He got me out of there and took me home without anyone else finding out. He protected me, even though he didn’t have to.”

Ukai sucked in a short breath but thankfully did not fly too badly off the handle with the news, as Daichi had expected would be the case. That didn’t mean he wasn’t leveled a strongly disapproving look from his grandfather, or a quick, sharp slap upside his head.

“Idiot. You should’ve rescheduled it or you shouldn’t have gone at all,” Ukai growled out, though he was quick to collect himself, his teeth clacking a little aggressively against the tip of his pipe as he puffed angrily away beside Daichi.

“Honestly,” Daichi’s grandfather grumbled, not quite finished with his rant, “for all your common sense you can be a real idiot sometimes, Daichi.”

Daichi didn’t even bother to try and hide his embarrassment as he obediently took the chastisement and swat, squirming beside the older man like a youngling caught doing something forbidden. The frankly endearing sight made Ukai’s anger ebb a little, though his concern was not fully satisfied just yet. There were still too many unknown details for him to relax. Who was this man that had saved his grandson from potential public ruin and in the proceeding days that had followed, somehow managed to ensnare his stubborn grandson’s affections?

“I know,” Daichi admitted, sounding truly contrite. “Kuroo told me the same thing, not in the same words, exactly but he thought I was crazy for trying it.”

The surname made Ukai pause and he eyed his grandson closely, looking for any change in the boy’s posture with his next question. That was a very particular last name, and very rare. Considering he had only ever known one family within the Tokyo region to possess the name, the coincidence seemed highly improbable for it to be any other family but the one he was thinking of.

The fact Keishin had just received word from that very same family earlier in the day regarding their intention to attend the festival after abstaining from it for the past five decades suddenly seemed far more complicated than he’d first anticipated.

Well, he supposed this answered why Nekomata had suddenly decided to break the streak.

“His last name is Kuroo?”

Daichi nodded, and shot him a hesitant, flustered smile. “Uhm, yes. Kuroo Tetsurou, actually.”

Ukai, who had just taken a deep inhale of smoke, released an alarmed wheeze of surprise before promptly falling into an outright sputtering fit as he failed to properly exhale in his shock.

“Jii-san—!”

“I’m fine—I’m fine,” Ukai coughed, waving off Daichi’s concern as he quickly got his breathing under control, Daichi eying him warily from where he sat.

Ukai grunted and blinked away the lingering moisture that had welled up in his eyes from the rather massive coughing fit he’d just devolved into, annoyed to find himself uncomfortably out of breath and a good deal embarrassed by the lapse in grace.

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you, my boy? No, it’s either you do something to the fullest extent, or not at all. You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days before those damn cronies on the council get a chance to have the honors.”

“Uhm,” Daichi smartly started, the concern in his gaze giving way to confusion as the older man continued on his rant. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s not the point, Daichi—” Ukai started to grumble, exasperated before he took a deep breath and he leveled a look at his grandson that was decidedly more serious than it had been, previously.

“You know,” Ukai cleared his throat and smartly decided to tap the remaining contents of his pipe out since he wasn’t going to be partaking in it any further, “I received word today that Nekoma is planning on attending the festival this year.”

Daichi’s stare was still confused but he politely smiled despite the fact Ukai was certain Daichi thought he was changing topics away from Kuroo Tetsurou and the dilemma Daichi believed himself to be in.

“Why so suddenly?” Daichi asked, thankfully humoring him.

“Well, at first I thought it might be that Nekoma was finally ready to introduce it’s new heir to a broader audience. Or to use the festival as a means of clearing the slate between our clans, so to speak. I also thought that maybe Nekomata was doing it for the sake of trying to bridge the social gap between Seijoh’s heir and our clan. Frankly? I think the primary reason is far more involved than I first suspected.” 

Daichi nodded wordlessly in understanding, his focus completely enraptured by his grandfather’s musings. 

“You wouldn’t know too much about it, since you were in Tokyo at the time and the heads don’t really like to talk about it beyond themselves, but they were nervous about the choice Nekomata made in naming his heir when it happened a couple years back.” Ukai admitted, storing his now empty pipe carefully back within the folds of his yukata where he normally kept it on hand when not in use.

“I don’t know much about it,” Daichi confirmed, “just that he was from a minor branch family or something, right? Is that what you mean?”

“It’s not his lineage that’s the issue,” Ukai responded, gaze focused intently back on Daichi once again. “It would be far more simple if that were the case. He’s more than good for the position by blood since he’s the direct grandson of Nekomata. The real issue lies in the fact the elders are afraid that because he wasn’t brought up under the expectations of becoming the next heir from a young age, he isn’t going to be as pliable or readily controlled. He likely has views on how things should be run that don’t align with how the old farts in the other clans feel to be proper.”

“That’s not a bad thing, though.” Daichi slowly spoke, a tiny frown on his mouth as he stared back at his strangely intense grandfather, not quite sure what to make of the way the older man was staring at him in return. “Tradition is important, yes, but our world is changing—it _has_ changed tremendously since the clans were first established. We’d be remiss to not try and change with it.”

Ukai nodded in an approving manner and even quirked a tiny smile at his grandson.

“You get it, Daichi—which is good. That’ll serve you well, keeping an open mind about things. New blood keeps things from becoming stagnant, and just because things have been done a certain way forever, it doesn’t mean change is necessarily a bad thing or something that should be avoided.”

His gaze shifted to the garden for the first time since their conversation had started in earnest and the sigh Ukai released was deep and heavy as if the man was bracing himself for something.

A moment later, Daichi found out what exactly his grandfather was preparing himself for.

“The branch of the Nekoma clan that the new heir came from was the Kuroo family, you know,” Ukai stated and he felt it, more than saw it, when Daichi stiffened beside him.

“What are you…” Daichi started to ask, before his words died in his mouth the moment his grandfather’s sharp brown gaze locked with his anew.

“He’s not known by that any longer, though,” Ukai quietly continued, and he watched the color slowly drain from Daichi’s face as understanding started to take root.

“What…what is his name, then?” Daichi softly asked, suddenly nauseous with anxiety, his heart beating fast in his chest as if he’d just started sprinting with all the speed he possessed. 

Reluctant as he was to admit it, Daichi was half certain he already knew the answer.

Ukai’s expression turned almost gentle, and the small smile he directed at his grandson was both comforting but also excruciating in it’s underlying apologetic delivery. 

“His name was changed from Kuroo Tetsurou to Nekomata Tetsurou, my boy.”

Daichi’s mind spun, and for a handful of moments, all he could think of was the thousand little clues he should’ve picked up on, but hadn’t, not entirely.

_Kuroo’s pause in giving his name the first night they met._

_Kyoutani, his driver and bodyguard._

_The way Kuroo was careful not to say too much about his family, but had a younger brother—adopted, which aligned with the well known fact the Seijoh heir had essentially been brought into the Nekoma clan fold as one of their own when he became Nekomata’s ward._

_The knowledge that Kuroo worked for Nekomata Pharmaceuticals in a high position of authority._

_Kuroo’s admittance he was a follower of the old ways._

_The fact Kuroo had been treating him with all the care and polite respect someone of his standing would have been well schooled in as a clan member, just as Daichi had been._

_The way Kuroo had so easily understood the pressure of the expectations Daichi faced because he, of all people, also knew what it meant to be trapped by duty._

In the face of it all, Daichi felt so very stunned.

His mind spun with a sudden torrent of questions as the knowledge of who Kuroo truly was settled heavily in his chest. Did Kuroo know Daichi was an Oniwaban member, like him? If he had, why hadn’t he simply told Daichi his real identity?

Would the current political conditions between Nekoma and Karasuno mean their efforts to be with one another would be for nothing?

Would Kuroo think Daichi had been deceiving him and want nothing to do with him?

Daichi’s heart seized at the thought and he didn’t even realize he’d begun to panic, his breathing coming in short and shallow bursts as he trembled in place, anxiety hitting him without warning.

“Daichi,” Ukai firmly called his name and at the sound, Daichi’s wide brown gaze flickered quickly to his grandfather, thankfully jarring from his spiraling thoughts.

“It’ll be okay,” the older man continued, reaching out to place a steading hand on Daichi’s nearest shoulder and it was only then that Daichi realized he was actually trembling a little.

“Do you like him? Truly?”

At the question, Daichi hesitated, but only for a moment. Despite the shock of learning Kuroo wasn’t who he thought he was, Daichi was certain he had already begun to know the parts of Kuroo that mattered, that were real.

Nekomata Tetsurou might be his formal title, or the persona he had to assume while interacting with the other clans among the Oniwabanshuu, but it meant nothing to Daichi. At the core of things, it was immaterial to the attraction and affection Daichi had begun to harbor for the other man.

Daichi had already come to know the vulnerable Tetsurou who had lost his parents, but loved his brother and grandfather dearly and held them close.

Daichi had connected with the intellectual, contemplative version of Tetsurou in the nightly talks they often shared together, and he’d found a companion in the man who truly tried to understand and allay Daichi’s worries and fears, when offered up.

He had seen the moral foundation Tetsurou possessed when he had spirited Daichi to safety the very first night they had met and left him at his apartment, unhindered and safe. Since then, the man had never once overstepped his bounds or taken advantage of Daichi’s kindness and had only served to prove himself again and again.

Did Daichi like him? Truly?

“I do,” Daichi quietly admitted, and the realization washed over him, calming the heaving tide of emotion he had been pulled up into without even really having taken full stock of how upended he’d become.

“I think I like him a lot, Jii-san,” Daichi’s voice cracked a little as he met his grandfather’s brown gaze, so similar to his own but also filled with a wizened strength he needed so very much in that moment.

Ukai smiled at his grandson with surprising gentleness before clapping his hand against Daichi’s shoulder in what was meant to be a reassuring gesture. He could see the anguish and the affection in Daichi’s gaze clear enough to know the answer himself, but for Daichi to come to the conclusion on his own was important.

“Then you and I must work quickly, my boy. Nekoma is on their way here sometime this weekend. I will speak with your parents in the morning and prepare them for the proposal we will put forth to Nekomata.”

“What about the elders, Jii-san? Won’t they—”

Ukai waved off Daichi’s worries quickly.

“You let me worry about the old bats. They should be happy things might be smoothed over between Nekoma and our clan after half a century.” It wasn’t a far-fetched reality, either. The increased ties with Nekoma that would come from the marriage would make even the most staunch of isolationists reconsider their views on intermarriage with the other clans. Though Karasuno did well enough on it’s own, it would not hurt to have a clan as well off as Nekoma’s tied to their own through a mating bond.

“For you to bond and marry the next heir of Nekoma is no small thing, Daichi. They would be idiots to pass up this opportunity. A match of this level has not been made in many years.”

Daichi looked relieved and very tired, and Ukai reached up to gently ruffle his grandson’s hair even though he was far beyond the age of the gesture being accepted by the young man.

“You should get some rest, Daichi. We can talk about this more tomorrow, I promise.”

Luckily, the boy didn’t fight him on the suggestion and cocked a tiny smile his way instead, slowly rising up to his feet.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, Jii-san,” Daichi admitted, pausing in his steps as he stared down at his grandfather who had started to rise up at a much slower pace.

“Jii-san?”

Ukai straightened up to his normal height and lightly smoothed down his yukata before cocking a brow at Daichi in a wordless question of return.

Daichi smiled at the familiar gesture, before nodding to the older man in acknowledgement.

“Thanks.”

Ukai laughed earnestly and stepped up beside Daichi to congenially slap him on the back before moving in the direction they had first originally come from, Daichi falling into step beside him easily.

“Any time, kid. Now c’mon, let’s get back before your sister eats all the peach manju and I can’t get some to go. We’ll worry about your man tomorrow.”

Daichi’s face immediately turned bright red and he sputtered out something close to an embarrassed squawk.

“He’s not my man!” 

“Well,” Ukai turned a sly look on him, the grin he wore wicked and teasing and Daichi knew what the man was about to say even before it left his lips, “he will be soon.”

“Oh my god, Jii-san!”

He hurried back to the main house, and quickly said goodnight to his grandfather before all but sprinting the rest of the way to his bedroom.

Daichi’s face didn’t stop burning until he was finally safe in his room, and even then, he couldn’t get his grandfather’s words out of his mind.

As he laid in his bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling a little while later, Daichi’s mind kept revolving around the new knowledge he’d stumbled across that evening and he wondered what would happen the next time he finally saw Kuroo—no, Tetsurou, once again.

“Nekomata Tetsurou,” Daichi whispered, savoring the strange new syllables on his tongue and the natural way they fell from his lips. There was something liberating in having the final piece of the puzzle finally in his grasp, filling a hole he hadn’t quite been able to discern until his grandfather had stepped in.

Yes, he saw it fully now, what Tetsurou had been hiding after a bit of self-reflection and his earlier conversation with his grandfather. Despite it, or maybe really because of it, Daichi couldn’t help but wonder if Tetsurou would be alright with the idea of bonding with him, once he knew the truth of Daichi’s origins.

He supposed he would find out soon, in just a few short days. Daichi couldn’t help but feel both excited and terrified by the thought.


	9. Much Ado About Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kuroo questions his luck, Nekoma's council of elders complicate matters and Oikawa gets some much needed advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! 
> 
> I somehow managed to survive this crazy week, and had enough time to get this turned out even though I originally said it might be late so...surprise! 
> 
> This chapter will hopefully resolve a couple of questions for you, including where Oikawa's head has been at recently. Please be gentle with the boy, he's prone to stupidity just like the rest of us poor humans and he's been under a bittt of pressure. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, liking and reviewing, as always! I can't believe this story has almost received 1,000 hits. That's beyond nuts!! I really do appreciate all of your support and hope you enjoy this next installment. 
> 
> Music Inspiration: 
> 
> Light of Love- Florence + the Machine
> 
> The Currents- Bastille

After Daichi had taken off for Miyagi, Kuroo’s work and life balance had predictably become a mess in the subsequent two days following Daichi’s departure.

Kuroo had taken to spending his nights at the office once again since he no longer had the excuse, or distraction, of getting to have dinner with Daichi to drag him away from his desk. Yaku had been surprised to see the reversal, and a bit suspicious, too with the way he constantly checked up on Kuroo, almost as if he were afraid to let him out of his sight.

It’d been a bit odd, truthfully.

So when Yaku had suggested he head home at the end of his second day straight in the office, Kuroo developed the niggling suspicion his grandfather was monitoring his movements. It was a new tactic for him, involving Yaku. It’d been an agreed upon rule that his grandfather wasn’t allowed to unnecessarily intercede in Kuroo’s private life, though of course that had been predicated on Kuroo’s cooperation in allowing Kyoutani to ferry him around and shadow him whenever he wasn’t on family owned property.

Kuroo had to admit he hadn’t really been holding up his end of the bargain, on that front and it seemed like his grandfather knew it, too. Though how much the older alpha was truly aware of Kuroo’s bending of the rules, he wasn’t certain.

In an effort to get Yaku and hopefully his grandfather, off of his back, Kuroo had made a point of emphasizing that since they were so close to finishing their drug registration application for the new scent blocker, he’d be staying put until it was turned in.

Yaku had predictably gotten annoyed with him for his stubbornness but had also stayed put to suffer through the last leg of things out of solidarity for their shared contribution to the project. Kuroo liked that narrative far more than the alternative where Kuroo’s grandfather had quite possibly ordered Yaku not to leave his side.

As late Thursday evening eventually edged into early Friday morning, they were able to finally submit the completed application for consideration to the Pharmaceutical and Drug Safety Bureau. Their goal finally achieved, the both of them had stumbled outside to call a cab and had tiredly made their way back to the Nekomata estate.

Kuroo hadn’t even remembered getting home, he’d been so exhausted at the time. When he next woke up, he was still dressed in his slacks and dress shirt, his jacket carelessly discarded at the foot of his bed, which told him he’d immediately crashed upon on making it into his bedroom.

He felt awful, frankly. The sleep he’d gotten hadn’t been enough, and he’d almost been expecting to wake up to Daichi’s comforting, floral scent in the guest bedroom of the omega’s apartment. Instead, he’d been met with the familiar four walls of his bedroom and reality had quickly set in.

Kuroo couldn’t be at Daichi’s because Daichi was in Miyagi and might be away for another week, at least, if not longer. The thought immediately caused his mood to plummet, and he wondered briefly if maybe he could call Daichi later on under the pretense of seeing how his trip was going so far. It’d be nice just to hear the man’s voice, and Kuroo could deliver the good news that he was finally free of the project that’d been taking up so much of his free time.

It’d been an apt premonition of the day ahead of him, though he didn’t know it at the time, that his first thoughts upon waking were of Daichi. Maybe if Kuroo had known what was in store for him, he’d have tried to stay in bed a little longer. Or not have come home at all.

Somehow, and Kuroo still wasn’t sure how they’d known where to look for him, he’d ended up being summoned before the council of elders, in the middle of him taking breakfast in the estate’s large kitchen with only the friendly cooks for company.

It’d been some time since he’d taken advantage of the hideaway when he didn’t want to be bothered at breakfast or dinner, enough that Kuroo thought it might’ve been forgotten by now, but apparently the old geezers were being particularly thorough and had longer memories than Kuroo gave them credit for.

Still hungry and less than excited about what lay in store for him, Kuroo had reluctantly abandoned his half eaten breakfast and headed to the communal meeting room where the elders usually gathered for official family matters.

One of the walls that normally consisted of heavy, painted doors decorated with traditional murals had been opened up, the paneling removed to increase the useable space in the room. Kuroo knew it wasn’t going to be a simple run of the mill meeting when he took note of the fact that all of the elders, the head of every minor branch family within their clan, were in attendance. At more informal meetings, maybe half or more of the heads would attend, relying on those that did show up, to disseminate the important factors discussed at the meeting to the remainder of them.

Already there was his grandfather and surprisingly, Tooru and Iwaizumi as well, which was another anomaly. Generally Tooru and Iwaizumi attended the two yearly solstice meetings as honorary Nekoma members, but unless they were directly summoned by Nekoma’s elders or his grandfather, they usually abstained from Nekoma clan meetings.

Tooru eyed him in a rather intent manner that Kuroo wasn’t quite sure what to make of as he walked over to the empty cushion left open between his adopted brother and his grandfather.

“You look like crap, Tetsu-nii,” Tooru bluntly stated in greeting.

“Well, good. Might be because I actually feel like crap,” Kuuro muttered to Tooru, carefully lowering himself down beside his younger sibling.

“Sounds like a personal issue. Listen,” Tooru started to say, leaning close and lowering his voice so that his words wouldn’t carry beyond the two of them, “I don’t know what they are going to say, but Nekomata jii-san is going to support you, no matter what. Whatever you do, don’t freak out, okay? Act like you knew from the beginning.”

Kuroo opened his mouth, about to ask Tooru what he meant by that, when he was rudely interrupted from across the room.

“So good of you to join us, Tetsurou-san. We were beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.”

The address had clearly been meant to put him back on his heels and the insult layered beneath the veneer of polite small talk immediately had Kuroo on edge. Together, and with slow intent, both Tooru and Kuroo glanced over at the man who’d interrupted their conversation, expressions equally flat.

The smile Kuroo turned on the man was edging on sharp, but still well within the realm of being construed as polite, though it was a close thing.

“Kozume-san, it’s good to see you again,” Kuroo lied. “I’m afraid I wasn’t aware we had a meeting today, otherwise I would’ve endeavored to pencil it into my calendar.”

Kozume’s eyes were cool as the man turned a tight-lipped smile on him.

“Really? Strange, someone should have messaged you about it.”

Tooru’s eyes shot from the Kozume head to Kuroo, who breathed out a low laugh.

“Strange,” Kuroo echoed, “I’ll have to check my junk mail folder. Then again, I was so busy at work I might have missed it with how focused I was on trying to meet the deadline I’d been handed.”

Tooru snorted quietly under his breath, and Kuroo saw Iwaizumi elbow Tooru in his side just enough to warn him to cool it.

The way Kozume’s glance slid to Tooru a second later told Kuroo the cantankerous old bat hadn’t missed the derisive snort, either. Kuroo still didn’t understand how the idiot was related to Kenma, but at least Kuroo wouldn’t have to deal with him forever.

“In any case,” Kuroo’s grandfather cut in before Kozume could keep up with his efforts to insult Kuroo, “since we are all here, perhaps we should continue with the meeting you’ve called? This was very last minute, Kozume-san. I believe my grandson can be forgiven for not having had much time to prepare for this. Even I had to shift some things around to be able to make this meeting.”

“You should have expected this meeting would be called following the pronouncements you made regarding Tetsurou-san’s mating talks with Shiratorizawa and Fukurodani being canceled,” Kozume countered, “why were we not consulted about this?”

It took every ounce of restraint Kuroo possessed to not allow his eyes to widen as he turned his head to stare at his grandfather with a deceptively calm expression.

What the hell? His grandfather had done _what_?

“Because the last I checked, Tetsurou was my grandson and not yours, Kozume-san,” Nekomata retorted with an enviable amount of grace, sounding completely unruffled by all appearances.

“He may be, but this decision is not yours to make exclusively, Nekomata-sama,” Kozume countered, and Kuroo’s eyes flickered over the other family heads to get a read on how they felt about the matter.

A few of them like Yaku’s father, the Morisuke head, did not look particularly impressed with Kozume’s outrage and cleared his throat in order to interrupt Kozume before he could truly let his anger get away with him.

“Perhaps it would be more prudent to ask Nekomata-sama why he ended discussions rather than why we weren’t warned he planned to do so, first?”

There were a few nods of agreement from the other heads, and an added smile of amusement from the Nobuyuki leader that made it hard for Kuroo to keep a smile from his own mouth. 

“Thank you, Morisuke-san,” Nekomata dipped his head to the other man, the dismissive lack of deference to Kozume made clear in the gesture.

“I was in no way trying to engage in obfuscation regarding Tetsurou’s mating talks. In fact, Tetsurou’s mating talks have not been halted.”

Kuroo really wished Tooru had actually been able to clue him in to what the hell was going on because he was back to feeling completely confused and lost. He pretended to stare up at the wood paneled ceiling as if bored, though really it was the only way to keep himself from blatantly gaping at his grandfather like he wanted to right then.

If he wasn’t up on offer to Shiratorizawa and Fukurodani any longer, then what other clan had his grandfather snared into mating talks over him? Irritation bubbled low in Kuroo’s belly, though he knew it was his own fault that he hadn’t yet expressed to his grandfather his desire to be done with mating talks among the other clans. His grandfather didn’t yet know Kuroo wanted to pursue Daichi, and he could already imagine the chaos it would cause among the men currently sitting across from them.

Kozume-san would be livid, undoubtedly, the uptight prick.

“Then you’ve started discussions with another clan? Who?” Kozume sharply inquired, not even trying to modulate the anger in his voice.

Kuroo tilted his head down and glanced askance at his grandfather right as he felt Tooru’s hand slowly drift against his hip to grip at the hand Kuroo had braced on the floor beside his younger brother.

The unspoken warning steeled him.

“Karasuno,” Nekomata replied, “though I haven’t yet put forth the proposal I had in mind. That’s why I’ll be gone this upcoming week, Tetsurou and Tooru-kun, too. We’ll be attending the festival in Karasu and I’ve already let Ukai-san know I intend to meet with him to discuss important issues.”

Kuroo found himself gripping tightly at Tooru’s hand, and the younger man gripped back just as fiercely as if to remind him of his earlier words.

“You intend for us to believe that you plan to petition Karasuno to agree to a bonding of one of their members?” The derision in Kozume’s words was audible and though he hated to, Kuroo couldn’t help but agree. Even he knew Karasuno’s relations with Nekoma were non-existent, the likelihood of such an offer bearing any sort of success was low as far as he could see it. 

“Yes,” Nekomata simply retorted without much fanfare. “The grandson of Ukai-san, as a matter of fact.”

The silence in the room was so thick Kuroo was certain they all could probably hear the way his stomach churned in horror at the thought. What? Why was his grandfather pushing for such a thing? It wasn’t--

“There is no instance in which Karasuno would give up their heir.” Kozume laughed, sounding positively delighted by what he perceived to be a badly placed misstep on Nekomata’s part.

“I’m speaking of his second grandson, not Ukai-san’s heir,” Nekomata calmly explained, and Kuroo felt the churning of his stomach pick up anew, the grip he had on Tooru’s hand turning bruising.

Morisuke interrupted before Kozume could say anything remotely snide in rebuttal. “I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with the current Ukai family line beyond it’s main house. He has another grandson?”

“Two, actually,” Iwaizumi piped up.

So Iwaizumi was in on this, too. Kuroo suddenly wondered if he should really be squeezing Tooru’s hand, the little traitor. Iwaizumi never did anything family related without Tooru being involved, it was a well known fact. His younger brother’s statement from earlier to trust his grandfather was growing less and less appealing the more he heard and had he not needed to control himself, he would’ve already demanded his grandfather explain what the hell was going on.

“The match in question I had in mind for Tetsurou is Ukai-san’s second grandson, Sawamura Daichi.”

Kuroo’s mind short circuited and he choked on a sudden inhale of breath he wished he hadn’t taken as the world around him zeroed down to his grandfather who he was staring at dumbly in shock.

_What? Daichi? Daichi was—_

“Tetsurou has been meeting Sawamura-san regularly, and I think the match shows promise in that the interest seems to be reciprocated. It would be good for Nekoma to mend fences with Karasuno. I don’t think I have to point out the benefit in having Karasuno bound to our clan through mating ties, either, do I?”

“If you wanted our clan to be tied to the warrior lines, you could easily have had Tetsurou-san mate and bond with Oikawa-sama! That match would be far more beneficial than the one you are proposing. Oikawa-sama would produce healthy children and the blood pedigree produced would be impeccable between Seijoh and Nekoma,” Kozume protested.

Kuroo, despite the internal crisis he was currently embroiled in, felt Tooru stiffen beside him and he mustered all the will power he had to refocus his mind away from the information he’d just had dumped in his lap regarding Daichi’s family origins and the fact his grandfather had been very much aware of his comings and goings.

Tooru was clearly upset, and the protective part of him that always clamored to shield the younger man from distress was coming out in full in the face of Kozume’s ignorant words. Tooru was still his little brother, even if not related by blood and Kuroo would be damned if he let Kozume think it was okay to speak about the boy like he was some prized brood mare.

“Considering Tooru-kun is of age, and my grandfather has no actual power over him beyond that of a peer at this point, he really couldn’t.” Kuroo spoke up for the first time since the meeting had been called into session, a low growl escaping him that made Kozume and the other members still at the clear warning folded into the rumbling vocalization. “He’s more than capable of choosing his own mate, and there’s no way he and I are bonding. Tooru-kun is my little brother, even if we’re not blood related. So, I’m afraid our ‘ _blood pedigrees’_ will end up remaining separate.”

Kozume opened his mouth, clearly about to retort in a manner that was probably less than kind if the enraged expression he wore was any indication, before Nekomata cut him off.

“I have already arranged for a meeting with Karasuno, and to back out now would not be received kindly. Can I expect the council’s support in pursuing this match?”

There were some soft murmurs among the council members, a couple of them leaning over to huddle together to speak amongst themselves and Kuroo took the opportunity of their distraction to glance at Tooru to make sure he was alright.

The younger man’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes dark with annoyance. Even if Kuroo was slightly irritated with him, because he was certain that he’d been involved in spying on him for his grandfather, Kuroo knew how touchy of a subject Tooru’s lack of a mating bond still was. He’d need to talk him down from his anger, after this, most likely. He just hoped the kitchens had some milk bread already made that he could swipe and ply Tooru with.

Morisuke’s voice cut through the murmurs, which quickly abated into nothingness with the man’s next words.

“Tetsurou-san, do you believe Sawamura-san will have you?”

Kuroo looked up from his study of Tooru to stare back at Yaku’s father, stilling completely for a moment as he truly considered the question. Would Daichi accept him, after learning of Kuroo’s background? They hadn’t exactly gotten around to discussing where Daichi’s views lay regarding Nekoma, Kuroo wryly mused.

To be completely honest, Kuroo wasn’t even sure if Karasuno held a negative viewpoint of Nekoma, and it hadn’t been something he’d put much thought into when he’d been learning about the current relations Nekoma held with the other clans. The way his grandfather had described their relationship with Karasuno had always leaned towards being apathetic, more than anything. 

If he knew anything about Daichi however, it was that he was more than capable of making his own determinations of people and wasn’t so close minded that he wasn’t willing to challenge his perceptions about someone.

Kuroo knew the night he’d first met Daichi, he hadn’t made the best of impressions when they’d started talking with one another, but by the end of that night and as time went on, Daichi had begun to soften towards him.

Things had certainly changed since then, and Kuroo sincerely wanted to believe Daichi wouldn’t throw away all the progress they’d made because of a less than simple misunderstanding.

Kuroo had already declared his interest towards Daichi and the younger man had been returning it, as much as he could tell. Kuroo was willing to work towards having Daichi forgive him, if he held any anger with him over not having come out and simply told him who he was, but Kuroo also expected Daichi to be making the same calculation as Kuroo. Daichi, who was no fool, had to understand why he’d kept quiet. It simply wasn’t allowed, devesting your clan ties to outsiders who weren’t members of the Oniwaban families, at least not without special dispensation.

And Kuroo had definitely not known or suspected Daichi of belonging to their world. He still wasn’t sure if he should be worried about his failure to pick up on Daichi’s abilities. Then again, he had been distracted and their time with one another had been limited lately. In a domestic setting like Daichi’s apartment, it wasn’t as if he’d had the man do anything out of the ordinary. Though now Daichi’s surprising strength suddenly made much more sense.

Kuroo nodded to Morisuke, willing to take this particular bet on what he knew of Daichi’s temperament. “I think he will have me, Morisuke-san.”

Morisuke nodded and raised his hand. “Then I support this match.”

Nobuyuki-san, beside him raised his hand as well with a murmured, ‘I support this match’ and Kuroo watched as the other clan heads slowly did the same.

“If nothing else, you should encourage Oikawa-sama to accept Shiratorizawa’s most recent proposal if you don’t intend to have him bond with Tetsurou-san,” Kozume-san bit out, just to get the last word in.

Shiratorizawa? They’d put up _another_ offer? That was news to Kuroo, and from the look on Iwaizumi’s face, he wasn’t the only one caught off guard. Tooru wouldn’t look at either of them, his gaze focused straight ahead, towards the council members across from them and Kuroo could feel the headache he’d been fighting since he woke up starting to once again build behind his eyes. He knew it was bad, if Tooru hadn’t told Iwaizumi. Tooru’s mind was a dangerous place and Kuroo could only guess the boy had declined to share this particular tidbit of information out of some misguided need to protect them both, or because he was torn over the decision.

Was it too late to go back to bed?

“That is for Tooru-kun to decide,” Nekoma calmly responded. “Who he bonds with is a Seijoh matter, and has no bearing on Nekoma. I am certain he will make the right choice with a little consideration and time.”

“Sage like words there, gramps, truly spectacular,” Kuroo dryly muttered, low enough that only his grandfather could hear.

Of course, Nekomata didn’t glance over at him, but Kuroo knew he was probably going to be hearing about that later, when they had The Talk™. Kuroo felt like he was entitled to a little bit of sass, considering the circumstances of everything that had just been dropped on him.

“Then we will support this match,” Kozume-san grudgingly conceded, when no one else moved to protest. He had been the only one to withhold his support until the very end, not that the fact was very surprising to anyone. Kozume-san had never held any real love for Kuroo, and frequently butted heads with Nekomata as a result.

“Well, thanks, Kozume-san.” Kuroo flatly responded. Morisuke muffled something suspiciously close to a laugh behind a sudden, abrupt coughing fit and Kuroo heard his grandfather release a heavy sigh from beside him.

“I move to adjourn this meeting then, if the council does not have anything further to discuss.” Nekomata suggested, and when no one said anything, Nekomata nodded and moved to his feet.

Kuroo quickly tightened his grip on Tooru’s hand when his younger brother moved to leave like the rest of the room’s other occupants which were already efficiently filing out from either side of the hall.

“Tetsu—” Tooru started to protest but a quick squeeze of Kuroo’s fingers around his stopped him cold.

“We need to talk, Tooru,” Kuroo seriously stated, meeting the young man’s brown stare. “Either today or tomorrow, but we have to, okay?”

Tooru looked like he’d rather chew off his own arm and run away than say yes, but after a moment the Seijoh heir gave a grudging nod of understanding.

“Good. I’ll bring you some milk bread and we can make a date of it.”

At Kuroo’s choice of words, Tooru grimaced. “Tetsu-nii, can we maybe not call it a date?”

Kuroo’s stare turned amused and a wide, catlike grin spread across his mouth at the boy’s apparent discomfort. “Why, little brother, does my language disturb you?”

“The only thing that disturbs me is your face!” Tooru growled, making a show of swatting at his older brother as he climbed to his feet, apparently done with the conversation and more than happy to beat a hasty retreat. Kuroo could tell Tooru was doing his best to seem normal, but was likely to hole up and lick his proverbial wounds after having been dressed down over his reticence to accept the Shiratorizawa proposal. With the way Iwaizumi was eying Tooru, he suspected the other alpha was considering the same likelihood as well, and perhaps a bit more beyond that if Kuroo was being honest.

Kuroo barely dodged the swat and turned a woe begotten pout on the younger, shorter male that was entirely for show and held no real sadness.

“Is that any way to talk to your dear, sweet brother? Especially when he’s promising you milk bread?”

Tooru rolled his eyes at him before he cocked a wide, teasing smile that held just the slightest of edges to it. “The nice act really doesn’t suit you, Tetsu-nii.”

“I’m always this nice!” Kuroo protested, affronted. “I just went to bat for you, or did you forget—”

Kuroo knew immediately that had been the wrong thing to say when Tooru’s expression turned cloudy and the diminutive man poked Kuroo’s chest very firmly in warning to shut up, or else.

“I can handle myself, thanks, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of my business. I’m going to go handle some things.” Tooru crossly bit out before turning on his heel, Iwaizumi moving to follow only to be halted when Kuroo quickly reached out and grasped the younger alpha’s elbow in an uncompromising hold.

“Let him go,” Kuroo quietly insisted, the levity and lighthearted expression he’d only just had sliding into one of serious consideration. “He needs a second. You’ll just become a verbal pincushion for him, at this point.”

“Tetsurou is correct, Iwaizumi-kun,” Nekomata chimed in as he stepped up beside the two, the three of them the last remaining bodies in the room. “Giving him some time would be wise. Why don’t you join Tetsurou and I for tea? You’ll be able to catch up with Tooru-kun later and I could use your perspective in relaying certain details to Tetsurou.”

“ _’Certain details_ ,’” Kuroo repeated, tone incredulous through every syllable that rolled from his tongue. “How about _all_ the details?”

The look Kuroo turned on his grandfather was pointed, but he didn’t say anything further considering they weren’t in the most private of rooms. It wouldn’t do well for Kozume or any of the elders to think Kuroo and his grandfather had not been united in their decision to request a chance be taken on petitioning Karasuno for Daichi’s hand.

Especially since they had, after a fashion. It had just been highly disjointed.

“…All the details,” Nekomata amended, eyes locking with his grandson’s for a long moment before the older man sighed. “Why don’t we head to my study?”

“Fine, but I need a plate of chocolate biscuits with our tea. I’m still hungry after not getting to finish my breakfast,” Kuroo grumbled, turning and leading the way, even though he was far from looking forward to the talk they were about to have.

“You and Shittykawa are such emotional eaters,” Iwaizumi remarked, rolling his eyes to hide just how fond he was of the quirky trait the two seemed to share.

“Iwaizumi, you’d also be just as emotional if you’d had the morning I just went through.”

Iwaizumi smirked, his eyes glittering with visible amusement. “Maybe, but at least I can contain myself enough to not act like a pining teenage girl that drowns her sorrows in sweets.”

“Hey!” Kuroo squawked, before proceeding to rant to Iwaizumi all about the stress he’d been under the last few weeks and yes, Kuroo really did deserve all the chocolate biscuits he wanted, so sue him.

Iwaizumi laughed the entire time and only laughed that much harder when Kuroo promptly flipped him off.

xXx

Kuroo, in the ensuing heart to heart he had with his grandfather and Iwaizumi, found out that his involvement with Daichi had been suspected as far back as the very beginning of their first meeting.

This wasn’t so surprising to Kuroo, considering the rush he’d been in to get Daichi out of the gallery and he’d had some sense that his absence was going to be noted by his grandfather rather quickly. As the head of a well established intelligence group, his grandfather would’ve put the pieces together with little trouble and Takeda’s conversation with his grandfather that night had merely cemented his suspicions.

What _was_ surprising was that instead of writing it off as a simple dalliance, his grandfather’s instincts had told him that Kuroo would be seeing Daichi again. It’d been strong enough for Nekomata to insist on Iwaizumi and Oikawa being roped into looking over Sawamura’s background to make certain he wasn’t a threat, though none of them had expected the information they’d come across.

That was still the part Kuroo was having a hard time swallowing—who Daichi really was. 

Iwaizumi had apologized for his involvement in the efforts that had brought the information to light, especially for the fact he’d been essentially digging into Kuroo’s private life. Kuroo had been quick to dismiss the apology, well aware that there had been no real way for Iwaizumi to ignore the request his grandfather had leveled at him, and Kuroo understood the concern behind the action, ultimately.

Kuroo knew the man had gone along with it because Iwaizumi considered him a friend, just as Kuroo did Iwaizumi. The fact Kuroo was important to Oikawa might also have had something to do with it as well, but it was to be expected, considering the continued dance Iwaizumi and Oikawa were locked in. If Iwaizumi were to actually bond with Oikawa, he’d have genuine grounds to insert himself as much into Kuroo’s life as he wanted, but it wasn’t something Kuroo was particularly concerned over. Between the two, Iwaizumi was far more practical and level headed than his little brother, and Iwaizumi lived and breathed discretion in a way very few people managed.

Surprisingly, Kuroo hadn’t been as badly berated by his grandfather as he’d expected for sneaking off like he’d had. There’d been almost something close to understanding in his grandfather’s expression, and Kuroo had listened closely as the older man explained the complicated relations they currently held with Karasuno. He’d genuinely been stunned by the knowledge of his grandfather’s failed court of Hiro, and he couldn’t help but be concerned it might make his own chances less than good, especially if Karasuno wasn’t feeling very hospitable after such a long radio silence between their clans.

His grandfather was far more confident than Kuroo, surprisingly and he supposed that had to count for something. Kuroo just hoped that his grandfather’s confidence wasn’t misplaced, but the man’s instincts were good, and Kuroo would be doing what he could to ease things along as well.

Kuroo knew the matter of his obfuscation where Daichi was concerned wasn’t entirely forgiven, but considering the time crunch they were on to make it to Karasu in Miyagi, his grandfather had let the matter go. The rest of the afternoon had slipped by quickly as the three of them discussed preparations that needed to be completed before they caught their private plane tomorrow and it was enough to make Kuroo’s head spin.

Gifts had to be brought, of course, to accompany the courting request. The assortment would only be given upon acceptance, due to the sheer cost of the items involved and just bringing them along would be an effort in and of itself. Included would be reams and reams of cloth, some fine, many in the Nekoma clan colors and others patterned tastefully, all of which were to be made into traditional clothing for Daichi by his own family in a symbolic gesture meant to tie their clans together.

Then there was the sake, twenty large crates of it, the finest Tokyo had to offer that would fuel the celebratory dinner that was bound to follow if Karasuno and Daichi were to accept Kuroo’s proposal.

Other items like pure iron ingots, that could be smelted down to make weapons and ten horses from the Nekomata clan’s own purebred Dosanko herd were extremely traditional in nature, but no less important. Kuroo would be off to the stables at some point before evening to earmark the creatures they could bear to part with and simultaneously communicate the current schedule to the stable hands that would be accompanying the animals up North.

All of this would be hauled up to Miyagi by trailer since their private aircraft could not bear the weight of it all, for which Kuroo was glad. Though he loved horses, being stuck in a plane with ten of them would not be exactly pleasant.

The only other items Kuroo would have to see to would be that he brought appropriate clothing for the multiple day trip. In addition to simple traditional wear and modern clothing, formal hakama, gi, haori and kinagashi kimono sets would all need to be brought for the dinners they would be having, and the events they would likely be sitting in on, as his grandfather had explained.

He wasn’t the only one that needed to be prepared, however. Tooru was just as much about to be put under scrutiny like Kuroo was, and his grandfather had asked if he couldn’t catch the Oikawa heir up on everything they had planned, and make sure he packed appropriately as well. Iwaizumi had looked fit to protest, clearly wishing to be the one to do so, but one look from Nekomata had quelled the matter immediately.

So with conclusion of their little family meeting finally called, Kuroo had headed to the kitchens for the second time that day.

The bustle of dinner preparations had already begun, even though it was only late afternoon, and Kuroo easily weaved through the crowd, calling hellos to familiar faces who barely shot back a reply before hurriedly scuttling along with their business.

The patisserie station Kuroo came to a stop at was just as busy, though he was a little dismayed to find Lev of all people manning the station, currently hyper focused on carefully placing strawberries atop what looked like some sort of cheesecake.

“Hey Lev,” Kuroo greeted, already bracing himself for the undoubtedly exuberant response he was bound to receive.

“Kuroo-san! Er, Nekomata-san I mean!” Lev nearly yelled, immediately drawing several stares towards the both of them.

“Kuroo-san is fine, Lev,” Kuroo reassured, fighting the urge to groan as he dug deep into his reserves of patience. Lev had come a long way, but he still required a little bit of handling to keep him on track, some days. He was easily distracted, maybe even suffered from ADHD—Kuroo strongly suspected this— but he had promise as a pastry chef, even if his social awareness could use a bit of work.

“I don’t mean to interrupt you, but would you happen to have any milk bread on hand? I’m trying to get some for Tooru.”

At the mention of Oikawa, Lev quickly set the long metal tweezers he’d using down and nearly took out a passing chef as he shot towards the rolling racks of already prepared goodies, earning a glower and muttered curse from the passing man.

“Warn someone when you’re about to move that fast! I nearly dropped my entire pan of prep!”

Kuroo shot the stranger an apologetic smile and hoped it would help the chef forgive Lev’s near collision with him.

“Sorry,” he found himself apologizing for Lev, “I distracted him.”

The chef relaxed a bit and directed a much more pleasant smile his way, clearly charmed by Kuroo’s status. “It’s not your fault, Nekomata-san. Please let me know if you need anything while you’re here.”

“Ah, yeah, thank you,” Kuroo forced out a laugh, honestly annoyed by the abrupt change in attitude. It wasn’t as if Lev had _meant_ to careen into the guy.

Thankfully the annoying man slithered off to somewhere else in the kitchen and was long gone when Lev came bouncing back, a half tray of milk bread loaves in his hands. “We have some, Kuroo-san! Would you like me to slice up a loaf and bag it?”

“That’d be a big help,” Kuroo admitted, the smile he next turned on Lev much more sincere, “thanks, Lev.”

“Of course!” Lev beamed at him, and quickly hurried to do just that, Kuroo’s eyes following him the entire time.

Yeah, Lev was a good kid. A bit of idiot, but a good kid.

xXx

Tooru, unsurprisingly, was in the library.

There were a few places his little brother frequented when he wanted to be away from other people and they all differed based on his exact mood—there was the archery range, when he was feeling furious and needed to take his rage out on something, the second floor balcony that sat on the west side of the house that was perfect for stargazing and was for when he was generally in a relaxed mood or wished to be, and finally the library where he’d hide away when he was emotionally upset and didn’t want to be in his rooms since it meant Iwaizumi had easy access to him. Kuroo had long been sworn to secrecy about his library hideaway, and as far as he knew, it was still the one place Iwaizumi did not know to look for Tooru when he was in a bad way.

“Have you been here the entire time?” Kuroo asked, not even bothering to announce himself as he entered since he was certain Tooru had probably caught on to his scent almost immediately in the enclosed space.

“Hmm…I don’t quite like the accusation in your words, Tetsu-nii.”

Kuroo wasn’t surprised to find Tooru sprawled on one of the two chaise lounges the room possessed. They were both of them situated in a quiet, out of the way corner to ensure there would be minimal disruption to anyone attempting to read for pleasure in the small space while other people walked the bookshelves.

Though the library wasn’t the most busy of places, it did sometimes have walk-ins. It was rare though, which was probably why Tooru favored it so much.

“It’s not an accusation if it’s fact, Tooru,” Kuroo retorted and came to a stop beside the long piece of furniture Tooru was currently reclining on. Not even attempting to hide his tool of bribery, Kuroo slowly lifted the bagged loaf of milk bread Lev had prepared for him and slowly raised it until it was level with Tooru’s eyes.

“May I be granted an audience with my liege? I come bearing gifts.”

Tooru lowered the book he currently held and eyed Kuroo for a moment before imperiously tipping his head back as if deep in thought over the request.

“Just one loaf?”

“It’s nearly dinner,” Kuroo flatly responded, earning a ‘hmph’ of consternation from Tooru who wordlessly lifted his hand, expression expectant.

Not needing any further urging, Kuroo placed the loaf in Tooru’s waiting hand and proceed to lift the gangly boy’s legs, easily plopping down at the opposite end of the couch with Tooru’s calves now subsequently propped up on his lap instead of the cushions. 

“You doing okay?” Kuroo asked, deciding to just go for it rather than dance around the issue at hand.

“I should be asking you that,” Tooru muttered, marking his place in the book he’d been reading before eagerly tearing into the bag of milk bread. “You’re the one who just found out your family went behind your back and discovered you’ve been dating a Karasuno clan member. Oh, and your grandfather essentially put you in the hotseat and told the elders you were going to bond with the guy before even consulting you.”

“First,” Kuroo began, after he’d had a moment to recover from the barrage of points Tooru quickly ticked off, “I know you and Iwaizumi had to do it—and I get why you did, it, too. I’m not mad at you, just grandfather.”

It was the truth, too. Tooru and Iwaizumi had just been following orders and instead of simply coming out and asking Kuroo what he was doing, his grandfather had decided to do things covertly. That was his grandfather’s choice, not Tooru’s.

Tooru’s angry, jerky movements in tugging open the bag slowed a little with Kuroo’s words and the dark haired alpha watched his younger brother’s brown eyes flicker up to him, and then back down at the milk bread. The gesture was marred with hesitance but a little bit of relief, too, and Kuroo knew Tooru was taking his words to heart.

“Second, yeah I’m surprised Daichi is part of Karasuno but I was already trying to figure out how to get gramps to agree to me pursuing him when I thought he was just a normal civilian. So, you know, I guess we were going to get to this point eventually.”

Tooru forgot his insecurity at that, and outright gaped at him in disbelief. “You were going to do _what_?”

Kuroo grinned at how shocked Tooru looked, but his amusement dimmed a little as regret chased it, Kuroo very much reminded in that moment that it’d been some time since he’d simply sat and caught up with Tooru.

Part of it had been to give Tooru and Iwaizumi privacy, the lapse in contact, but Kuroo and Tooru had also been very busy with their own respective duties and some weeks they barely saw one another outside of mealtimes or while using the bathing facilities in their wing.

Now was the time to change that, going forward, he told himself.

“Yeah, I know it’s crazy,” Kuroo admitted, huffing a heavy sigh as he glanced askance at Tooru with the smallest of smiles. “I really do like him, though. I knew there was something special about him the very first night we met, Tooru. He’s really driven, smart and so caring it should be illegal—and I suddenly realized what gramps was talking about when he said you’d know if someone was really worth it, if you were willing to dedicate your life to them. One night I just thought about how it’d be totally worth fighting the elders to let me pursue him, if it meant I could have a chance to be with him for real.”

Kuroo expected Tooru to start teasing him, or make some blithe, snarky comment but neither of these things occurred. Tooru seemed lost in himself, eyes going distant with thought and Kuroo wondered if maybe his words had hit a little too close to home for the young Seijoh heir.

“I think you get that feeling though, don’t you, Tooru? Iwaizumi’s a special guy, too.”

The soft crinkling of the cellophane wrapper Tooru still held in his grasp was surprisingly jarring in the otherwise quiet library and Kuroo eyed the white knuckled grip his brother had on the bag, clinically noting the strength probably involved.

“It’s not that simple,” Tooru slowly muttered when he’d recovered enough of his mental faculties at the mention of Iwaizumi.

“Neither was my situation. Or is this because of Shiratorizawa’s offer?” Kuroo questioned, the earlier news he’d discovered in their meeting with the elders suddenly making much more sense.

Tooru shot him an annoyed look and petulantly pulled a slice of his loaf out to bite aggressively into it, maybe to stop himself from saying something undoubtedly bratty in retort.

“You clearly like him, and I think Iwaizumi likes you too, so why not pursue it?”

“…I a’redy did.”

Kuroo didn’t dare believe what he thought he’d just heard and his gaze widened as he stared down the length of the couch at the younger man. “You already did? Then why the hell aren’t you—”

“Because we got interrupted!” Tooru snapped, cheeks red in a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. “I was upset and we were on a mission, so I shut Iwaizumi down.”

“When was this?” Kuroo’s expression was incredulous. “And wait a minute—are you saying Iwaizumi was the one to make a move?”

Tooru’s blush, if possible, only darkened and Kuroo sighed in understanding.

“Of course he wasn’t. Tooru, you can’t just start shit and then clam up when it suits you. It’s not fair to Iwaizumi, especially if—”

“I know, alright!” Tooru actually tossed the bag of bread down onto the ground and curled over onto his side and into a ball, the watery, reedy tone his voice had taken on telling Kuroo that the other man was probably very close to crying. “I just…I could feel how he wanted to respond but he wouldn’t and then we got interrupted and he just acted like it was _nothing._ ”

“You were on a mission,” Kuroo reminded Tooru as he reached out to curl a hand over one of the man’s exposed ankles to remind the other that he was there with him, “you know how serious Iwaizumi is. And be real with me, I bet he tried to talk to you about it afterwards, didn’t he?”

The resounding silence answered the question for him and Kuroo hummed, fingers comfortingly petting over Tooru’s ankle as he let some of his earthy scent seep into the room, trying every way he could to reassure the clearly unhappy man.

“Listen, Tooru. If this hesitance about pursuing Iwaizumi is due to Shiratorizawa’s offer, I’m going to do my brotherly part and tell you I don’t want you to even consider whatever Ushijima put on the table this time around. No matter how much the elders are pushing you to accept it.”

Tooru’s leg jerked at the mention of the man’s name and Kuroo smugly pat himself on the back for guessing correctly.

“You hate the guy. It’d be the worst match in the history of mating matches and I don’t think Shiratorizawa would appreciate you killing their heir—which you will definitely end up doing—and then I’m going to have to come and bail your ass out. With my luck I’ll end up starting the first civil war among the clans because I had to spirit you off like Helen of Troy.” Kuroo lightly joked, before he paused as he realized his wording wasn’t quite accurate.

“Actually, Iwaizumi would probably do the spiriting, I’d just be the added back up muscle.”

A faint giggle escaped the curled form of his brother and Kuroo found himself smiling a little in relief at the sound.

“The elders were pressing me about it, the day before our mission,” Tooru eventually spoke up after they’d lapsed into a comfortable, almost calm silence. “I just…I guess I panicked and thought, ‘what if he doesn’t know how I feel?’ and I tried to egg him into putting me in my place when I challenged him.”

“Oh Tooru,” Kuroo quietly murmured, the pieces finally clicking together in his mind. “You tried to show him you were receptive through scenting, didn’t you?”

The faint nod the other made, though partially hidden due to his current position, confirmed Kuroo’s suspicions.

“Yeah, you just confused the hell out of him then. Also, I love Iwaizumi but he’s almost as dense as you. He definitely didn’t—maybe still doesn’t—know how you feel.”

“Hey, fuck you, I’m not dense like Iwa-chan!”

“Yes, you are. Now shut up and listen to your elder, you little shit,” Kuroo snarked back, gently pinching Tooru’s foot when the lanky man tried to kick him in retaliation.

“You need to _tell_ him how you feel. And then you need to tell him you want to court him and get on to making everyone’s life miserable with the marital bickering you’re going to start at every possible chance.”

“Why am I the one starting it? Iwa-chan is the manner-less brute, not me!”

Kuroo huffed an exasperated guffaw. “ _That’s_ the thing you take away from everything I just told you?”

“People aren’t going to like the match,” Tooru ignored Kuroo’s teasing, and rolled over onto his back once more to stare down the length of his body at his older, adopted sibling.

“You’re the heir of Seijoh, not them. What you says goes,” Kuroo reminded Tooru, a shadow of a smile curling at his lips. “And our elders aren’t Seijoh’s. What they think about your clan’s future doesn’t matter. I think it’d be smarter for you to mate within Seijoh at the current time, anyway. You need to build yourselves back up. Inviting an outside clan into the head family is bound to cause friction, not to mention unnecessary interference. You would never have to doubt Iwaizumi’s loyalties, or the meaning behind his actions. I know gramps thinks the same, too.”

“Well if he does, he hasn’t said so,” Tooru muttered, looking decidedly peeved.

“Yes he has. He’s your biggest supporter, idiot,” Kuroo laughed, and this time he failed to avoid another kick Tooru aimed at his stomach which resulted in him curling in over into himself with a soft wheeze of protest. “He is!” Kuroo insisted, once he’d successfully caught his breath anew. “Today at the meeting, for example. He pretty much told you he respects your decision and that he knows you’re going to make the right one.”

Tooru went still and Kuroo warily straightened back up, fairly certain he was safe, but ready to eject himself from the couch at the first sign of danger if the younger man tried to kick him again.

“He really does?” Tooru’s voice was soft and more vulnerable that Kuroo could remember it being in quite a long time. Sometimes Kuroo forgot how much Tooru thrived on validation, and how much, even if Tooru tried to hide it, Kuroo’s grandfather’s opinion meant to him.

“Yes,” Kuroo reassured, “and for what it’s worth I do, too.”

“I don’t know how to ask him—Iwa-chan, I mean.” Tooru admitted after a long moment of silence where he’d suspiciously been rubbing at his eyes. Kuroo pretended not to have noticed and turned his gaze to the book Tooru had set aside.

“Well I certainly didn’t think you meant Ushijima,” Kuroo dryly retorted. “And that’s simple, if you’re nervous. You can always request an intermediary. I’ll do it if you want. It’s more than appropriate considering your station.”

“But not for yours,” Tooru slowly mused, which told Kuroo he was at least thinking about the option.

Kuroo released a soft snort, amused by the insinuation. “Since when have I cared about rank? Remember, I was Kuroo Tetsurou not that long ago? The only reason I’m in the main family is because gramps ran out of options. And I think it’s appropriate. You’re my brother in all but formal adoption and blood, kid. I still need to give him the shovel talk anyway, so I can kill two birds with one stone.”

Tooru gave him a horrified look that made Kuroo immediately erupt into cackling laughter, already able to tell his attempt at humor had not been appreciated. 

“Tetsu-nii I will _murder_ you if you so much as threaten Iwa-chan! Only I’m allowed to do that!”

“Ohoho, someone’s already _very_ possessive.”

Tooru glowered at Kuroo, promising pain if he kept up his teasing. Not particularly wanting to be gut checked again, Kuroo erred on the safe side and decided to yield.

“Just think about it, okay? I mean it, I’m willing to be your representative if you want it.”

Tooru slowly nodded and Kuroo sighed, relieved by the acquiescence before he gently clapped a hand over the younger man’s nearest knee. “You okay to venture out, now? I got a lot to go over with you and I need to help you pack.”

“Yeah,” Tooru agreed, slowly retracting his legs to stand up and stretch, before he jolted and let out a horrified squawk when he spotted the cellophane bag of bread laid out on the floor.

“My milk bread!”

Kuroo watched on in amusement as Tooru swiped the discarded snack up off of the ground where he’d thrown it not too long before. It looked a little worse for wear, and judging by the pout Tooru wore, he thought so too.

“That’s karma for kicking your poor nii-san when he was trying to help,” Kuroo snickered, already heading for the door.

“You’re the _worst_ ,” Tooru protested though Kuroo knew his younger companion didn’t really mean it when he discreetly glanced back at his brother and caught the smallest of smiles pulling at Tooru’s mouth.

If anyone would be able to handle Tooru, it was Iwaizumi.

**Author's Note:**

> Always happy to have fellow Haikyuu/ KuroDai fans squeal with me over this great series. Come find/add me at twitter if you like: @solarsunfire


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